Phasmatic
by Liz Hollow
Summary: When Lyra dies unexpectedly, she comes back as a ghost, stuck between the plane of the living and the dead. Morty, the only person who can see her, has to figure out how to get her soul to move on before becoming too attached to someone fated to be dead.
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Death wasn't what I had expected.

In fact, death felt the same as life. Just quieter. More peaceful. Lonelier. But I walked on the same plane as those still living, with no Heaven or Hell to go to. Was I supposed to be here, walking with the living? Then again, I had been one of them only a day ago, alive and well, young and thriving. I was only eighteen.

When I woke up—or, perhaps, when my soul woke up—after dying, everything seemed the same. I could smell and breathe. I could feel the wind moving through my hair, a gust knotting it up. I could see and think, and I felt rational. The only hint I had that I was dead was that I had risen up out of my wet, salt-covered body, dragged from the sea.

It wasn't the fact that I had risen out of my body that freaked me out, nor was it the fact that I was dead at all. As I reached out to touch the shoulder of the man that had pulled me out of the sea, to tell him that I was all right—that I was right here—my hand went right through him. I fell forward, stumbling to the ground.

"Excuse me, sir," I tried, sitting on my knees and reaching out for him again. Once more, my hand and arm went right through his body. I retracted, cradling my arm in my other hand, staring at it because I couldn't do anything else. I looked just fine. I wasn't translucent, I felt solid to myself, and I wasn't sliding through the earth beneath me. So, what was wrong?

"Sir, I'm fine! I may not be attached to my body anymore, but I'm still here! Sir! Can you hear me?" I felt tears burning in my eyes, and I reached out to push the man's shoulder again, despite my knowing its uselessness. But this time, my hand didn't slide through him. The man moved with my hand, bouncing forward as I pushed. "Oh my…"

The man didn't respond to my question, but he looked around, trying to see who was around. His eyes landed on me a few times, but there was nothing on his face that told me that he saw me or heard me. But he reached a hand up to his shoulder, rubbing it and shaking his head. He felt it. He just couldn't see me.

I didn't try to touch the man again. I sat beside my body, staring at my face… my closed eyes, my pale flesh… staring at my damp clothes—though it was probably silly to think, I was glad I had died in that outfit; it was my favorite, and now I could wear it all the time.

Minutes passed. The man who failed to save me made several calls, and after a few attempts to revitalize me, the ambulance finally came for my body. I didn't know who the man was, but I was grateful that he had called for help, anyways. I was glad that he had gotten me out of the sea.

I remained beside the man, the two of us just sitting there on the sandy beach, as they loaded my body into the ambulance. I felt no need to go with them; it wasn't like they would care that I was there, and I was positive that I didn't want to be there when they told my mother. My poor mother… I couldn't handle seeing or hearing her response.

Another man, with white hair and a beer belly, came up to the man who I had been sitting with. He plopped down onto the beach right where I was sitting, his whole body going right through mine like I wasn't even there. All I could see was darkness now, so I moved away, crawling to the other side of the big man.

"Carson, that girl is dead. Long dead and long gone. You don't need to sit here and feel guilty about it."

It was weird hearing that word. _Dead_. Especially when said about me. It seemed to finalize everything. Even though I had watched and listened to the men carry my body away on a stretcher, no one mentioned the word until now. But now that the word was there floating around, it just seemed like I had really disappeared.

"But I'm not gone," I replied, but the two men didn't even acknowledge me. Right. Because they couldn't hear or see me.

"I know. I know there wasn't anything I could do—she was dead when I found her." The man named Carson tugged at his baseball cap, looking uncomfortable. "But, Jay, do you know who that girl is?"

Jay shook his head. "I didn't get a good look at her, honestly."

Silence. I could hear Carson swallow, a loud gulp in the otherwise quiet atmosphere. "That was the League Champion. Lyra or something. She's only eighteen." He paused, and Jay swallowed next, jamming his hands together. "I always thought the Champions were all invincible. None of them have ever died while they were still Champion. And none of them have ever died this young."

"No one is invincible, Carson. Obviously this girl's time was up."

I felt the hot tears burning in my eyes again. Shaking my head, I rose to my feet, beginning to walk. I couldn't just sit there and listen to them talk about me. How could my time have been up? It didn't make any sense.

So, I left Carson and Jay to sit there alone. Well, they thought they were alone, anyway, so it really didn't make a difference.

_It really didn't make a difference_.

That was it? Now that I was dead, nothing I did made any difference? Then, why was I still wandering around on this plane with the living? Why wasn't I gone? I didn't see any other ghosts walking about, so why was I?

Ghosts? Was that what I was? A ghost? Well, sure, if there were ghost Pokémon running around, why couldn't there be ghost people? That made sense. But if it did, why was I seemingly the only one? Where were the rest of them?

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" I called out, hoping that someone—anyone—would respond. But as I walked and walked, trying to find someone to talk back, no one answered. I walked from Olivine City to Ecruteak, but the only acknowledgment I got was from some wild Pokémon that could obviously sense me.

And last time I checked, ghosts didn't actually exist. Just ghost Pokémon. So, why was I expecting that anyone could hear me?

Daylight was fading into twilight, the sun setting into the horizon. I wondered where my body was now. I wondered if my mother had been told yet. I wondered if Ethan and Silver knew. I wondered if it was on the news. Hell, I could walk into a Pokémon Center and watch the news if I wanted to. I could find out if my death was important.

I remembered going to the Ecruteak Pokémon Center. So much had happened in this town, and now, I had to give it all up. Just like that. My Pokémon were gone—who knew what they had done with them? My life was gone. My body was gone—all the more evident when I reached for the door to the Pokémon Center and went right through it.

That was getting really old.

I walked straight through the door, fazing in and out of it without faltering. I heard the television talking about me before I saw it. But when I looked at the screen, seeing a picture of my young, thirteen-year-old self, I had to turn away. It wasn't as though I could see, anyway. The tears were in my way.

It all just seemed impossible. How could this have happened?

"Isn't that the League Champion they're talking about?" one girl asked from her spot on the couch, pointing to the screen. The boy next to her nodded. I looked at them both, waving my hand in front of their faces. Nothing. "Leader Morty knows her, doesn't he? Oh, this is just terrible! I wonder if he's heard this yet."

The boy shrugged, and the two of them rose together, walking through me. I watched as they left the Pokémon Center, hand in hand. Rage rose within me, and I clenched my fists, kicking at the couch they had just abandoned, only to see it move.

"Make up your mind! Let me go through you or stay solid!" I screamed at the inanimate object, as if it could hear me. Then, collapsing onto the couch, which supported my weight, I wept, streams flowing cleanly from my eyes. How was any of this fair? They said life wasn't fair, but wasn't death supposed to be?

I would never have that. I would never hold hands with anyone. I would never fall in love. I would never have a family.

Because I was dead.

I sat up, sitting straight on the couch and rubbing the tears away from my eyes. "Well, now what? I guess I can talk to myself aloud since no one can hear me. I guess that's nice." I paused, smiling to myself. "This sucks."

It sucked even more when I fell through the couch, half my body above it, and half inside of it. Grumbling, I rose to my feet and walked out of the couch, brushing myself off out of habit, not because there was any dirt on me.

"What do ghosts do exactly?" I wondered, hoping that some Ghost-Lord would pop up in front of me and assign me a job. It didn't happen. So, I considered my options. "I could walk around aimlessly for the rest of my life—" I stopped, snapping my fingers. "Oh… wait, I'm dead. Scratch that. I could… haunt someone."

Well, people-watching had always been one of my favorite hobbies, so maybe haunting people would be fun. At least for a little while.

I didn't have to think very long before I knew exactly who to haunt. While haunting Ethan or Silver would be comical to say the least, I would probably miss them more than I would enjoy haunting them. And my mom would be too sad, so I wouldn't get anything good out of that.

But that couple _had_ mentioned Morty. And who better to haunt than the King of Ghosts himself, especially when I was already in Ecruteak? There was a certain irony to the situation, I noted. A master of ghost-type Pokémon wouldn't even be able to tell that the League Champion was haunting him—though surely his Pokémon would know.

Being dead was _definitely_ not what I expected. Unfair, maybe, and depressing—but I could make this work.

I hurried over to the Ecruteak Gym, sliding through the wall of the Pokémon Center instead of walking through the door. Heck, if I was dead, I didn't need to worry about being lazy. It wasn't like I could die again. But other than being able to walk straight through objects and people, being dead felt exactly the same as being alive. So, maybe I could die again.

Walking through the entrance of the Ecruteak Gym, I moved right through the walls into the main arena, glancing around at the place. Everything looked the same, with the same drab décor as the first time I had entered the building.

"Really, Morty, just because you're a fan of ghost-types doesn't mean your Gym has to look dead, too. Because I can honestly say that ghosts do _not_ approve of it. I'm more of a fan of bright colors," I said, twirling around and staring at the dark walls and stone flooring.

"Lyra, is that you? What are you doing here?"

I froze upon hearing my name, my mouth dropping as far as it could go. I definitely just heard my name. And I definitely just heard Morty say it. It couldn't have been my imagination. I might have been dead, but I never hit my head.

Turning around, I faced Morty as he approached me, a pleased grin on his lips. "You haven't stopped by the Gym in a few years. How are you, Lyra?"

I checked over my shoulder, making sure he wasn't speaking to anyone else. He just stared at me with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, you're the only Lyra I know."

"You can see me?" I asked, stepping closer to him and waving a hand in front of his face. He just laughed at me, rolling his eyes.

"Of course."

"And you can hear me." This one wasn't a question. I knew he could hear me. Otherwise he wouldn't have responded to my previous question. But this was so confusing. How could Morty see me and hear me if no one else could?

"Lyra, are you all right? Do you need to sit down?"

I shook my head, my jaw still dropped. Then, without even thinking, I thrust my hand towards his chest. Much to my chagrin, it went straight through. Morty jumped back, yelling a curse word that I didn't even know he knew, staring at my outstretched arm.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, reaching out his hand and trying to touch mine. But, just as I expected, his hand couldn't grasp mine. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you… not solid?"

I let my arm fall to my side, and in a quiet voice, I said, "I'm dead, Morty."

This apparently was not the answer he was looking for. He stood there for a moment, staring at me with his wide purple eyes, before laughing. Quiet at first, it grew into hysterics, and he was soon doubled-over with laughter.

He stopped when a third person cleared their throat.

"Excuse me, Leader Morty," one of his Trainers said, a concerned look upon his face. "Are you all right, sir?"

Morty blinked, looking at me before nodding at the boy.

"Well, a few of us were watching the news a few minutes ago. We heard that Champion Lyra… um… well, sir, she died. We didn't know if you knew about it, but… we thought you'd want to know."

Morty just blinked again. And then, with one last look at me, he walked out of the room.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Another chaptered fic! I highly doubt that any of you were expecting this from me, but I really enjoyed writing that Lyra/Morty one-shot. And this idea popped into my head almost immediately after I put that one up.

I am SO mean to Lyra/Kotone. Between "Crushed" and this? Gosh. I'm so mean. I promise that I'm not this mean in real life. People were voting for me for "Friendliest" as one of our Senior Class Superlatives. So… I'm not mean. XD

This is weird. I've never written about ghosts. But it's an interesting concept. Ghosts are a lot of fun to believe in. :D Anyway, I've rambled enough. I hope you enjoy this fanfic! It's not going to be as angsty as "Crushed", but, then again, what is?

By the way, "Phasmatic" isn't a word. It's not a spelling mistake, though. There is a reason it's called "Phasmatic". ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

I didn't know where Morty thought he was going, but I wasn't about to let him get away that easily. He was the only person who could see and hear me so far. And if he could hear and see me, that meant that I wouldn't have to live the rest of my existence haunting anyone! I could just follow him around!

"Morty, stop! Please wait!" I called, and he batted a hand through the air, stomping away like a frustrated child.

"I can't hear you!" he responded. Not very subtle, I noted, and a tad immature. It was funny, then, that I had always considered Morty very mature. Apparently seeing ghosts freaked him out a little—how ironic, considering he trained ghost-type Pokémon.

The Trainer beside me looked very confused, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I didn't say anything…"

The Gym Trainer started after Morty before I could, but I was thankful that he did. The Trainer would know where he was heading. I kept close to the boy, walking with him and occasionally poking my hand through his head, seeing if it would ever hit solidly. A door slammed somewhere in the building, but it wasn't long before the Trainer stopped at said door, looking hesitant for a few seconds before finally knocking on it.

"Leader Morty, are you all right?"

Well, I didn't have to wait outside. No door could stop me anymore. So, I walked through the wooden door, looking around the room that Morty had entered. It was tiny and not at all what I expected. Instead of the drab décor of the Gym, this room was brightly lit and painted, with a nice wooden desk, two comfy armchairs, and a spinning office chair where Morty sat. Apparently that depressing glow was reserved entirely for the Gym arena.

"Morty…" I started, and he spun around in his chair to face me.

"You know, you're good. I never took you as the kind of girl who plays tricks on people, but you are really good at it." He waggled a finger at me, as if pretending to scold me, but his furrowed eyebrows told me that he wasn't messing around. "It's amazing, actually, that you could get the Gym Trainers involved without my knowing."

I bit my lip. Morty definitely knew how to make a dead girl feel guilty about being dead. Like it was my fault or something.

"Morty…"

"But then again, I'm sure they just wanted a good laugh. I don't blame them for wanted to play a trick on me. When I was younger, I used to trick my parents all the time with my Gastly. It was a good time." He sighed, laughing a little. "I digress… You did a really good job, though. The acting? Spectacular. I didn't know that Lyle could lie like that."

_Lyle?_ I wondered, before glancing back at the closed door. Lyle had to be that Gym Trainer.

"Morty, death really isn't something to joke about," I told him, but he didn't look fazed by my comment at all. In fact, he just brushed it off with a shrug, picking up a pen from his desk and dropping it back down. I watched as he repeated the process again and again, picking it up and dropping it down.

I reached out, trying to grab the pen from him as he picked it up again, but my hand slid through his. He let the pen go, this time leaving it where it was, staring at me with eyes full of disbelief. I pulled my hand away, folding my arms across my chest. "Sorry."

"That is the one thing I don't get, though," Morty continued, staring at my folded arms for a moment before looking into my eyes. "How do you do that? It's pretty clever. There is a hologram program that Lyle knows how to operate, actually. Did you wire the Gym last night? That's pretty good. You amaze me, Lyra."

I uncrossed my arms, walking around the desk (as opposed to walking through it, as I could have) and stopping besides Morty.

"Do you hear me saying, 'Gotcha'?" I demanded, feeling so frustrated with him that my temper was flaring. "Do you hear me laughing? Do you hear Lyle out there cracking up? I don't think so. This is not a joke, Morty. Do you hear _that_?"

I reached out, grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling his face closer to mine. Then, realizing that I had _actually_ grabbed it, I let him go with a small squeak, backing away from him into the desk, the wooden surface hitting my butt. Putting a hand down, I couldn't go through it anymore. Why was this happening?

"I'm sorry…" I said, shaking my head, my temper settling. "Sometimes I'm solid, sometimes I'm not… I don't know why. Oh!"

I couldn't catch myself when my hand slipped through the desk. Falling backwards, I saw Morty reach a hand out for me before I hit the ground, the darkness of the desk surrounding me. I sighed, standing up and walking out of the desk, back to the other side—away from Morty. I couldn't look at him anymore.

"Lyra."

That was all he said. Just my name. But there was a certain realization in his voice, a certain regret. I could hear him rise from his chair, could hear him walk around the desk to me, could hear him breathing like there were never enough breaths to take. And then I could see him, though my eyes were directed towards the floor. His fingers scraped my chin, going right through it, but it was enough for me to look up.

"You're really a ghost." It was no longer a question but fact. Fact that I was dead, not alive, but my soul was still wandering around like a lost puppy. "Lyra, how did this happen? What did you do to yourself?"

I swallowed hard, trying to think. Everything had happened so quickly, in just a moment, though I imagined it really was much longer than that.

"I was on my way to the Whirl Islands to catch some Pokémon. I wanted to catch a Seel—they're really cute." I smiled, laughing in spite of myself. "I never got there. I was swimming with my Quagsire, and this big… _wave_ came, completely out of the blue. It fell right on top of us, and I accidentally let go of my Quagsire—along with bag which had all my Poké Balls in it. After that I became completely disoriented. I had no idea which way was up, which way was down. And my Quagsire never came back for me."

Morty never even blinked as I explained what happened, and he seemed to be holding his breath. As soon as I finished, he collapsed into one of those armchairs, rubbing his forehead.

"You drowned," he said, and I nodded.

"Some guy named Carson apparently found my body and got me back to shore. I didn't wake up—well, like this—until he brought me back." I paused, shaking my head. "I wasn't supposed to die. My Quagsire never came back for me. Now, I don't even know where my Pokémon are. They probably all…"

I stopped, feeling a sob coming on. And before I knew it, I was crying, knees sinking to the ground in front of Morty. I would have normally been embarrassed, but I didn't care anymore. I was never supposed to die. And neither were my Pokémon.

"How old were you, Lyra?" His voice was hesitant, scared. I had never associated Morty with the word "scared" before.

I wiped my eyes, looking up at Morty. "Eighteen."

"It might sound crazy, but I don't think this was an accident. It seems weird that your Quagsire never came back for you. Pokémon have heightened senses when in danger, and a Quagsire especially should be able to find the surface of water. Its sense of smell, along with its underwater vision, should have been used to locate you—and it _would_ be able to find you. Your Quagsire couldn't have just _not_ come back for you."

Wiping my eyes again, I shook my head. "You think I was _murdered?_"

The idea seemed ridiculous. I didn't have many enemies, other than Team Rocket. But they didn't seem like _murderers_. Crooks, maybe, and evil Pokémon abusers, but never murderers. Maybe I was being naïve. Maybe Morty was right. But it just seemed completely impossible. Why would someone want me dead?

Morty just nodded, his face serious. I laughed, scoffing at the possibility. "No way. I am ninety-nine point nine percent sure that I wasn't murdered. I'm only eighteen. What does anyone have against an eighteen-year-old girl?"

"I don't know, but I'm going with the other point ten percent. There's something fishy about this whole thing."

There was a knock at the door, and Morty stood up, opening it to reveal an old woman. She curtsied, her face completely serious. "Excuse me, sir, but Lyle told me about Champion Lyra. I'm very sorry, sir. You knew her, didn't you?"

Morty glanced back at me for a split second, and I noticed the old lady's eyes move in the same direction. She couldn't see me, either; her eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide with a new concern.

"Lyle said he could hear you talking to someone, sir, and you kept mentioning this Lyra. Are you all right?"

Oh, crap, the woman thought he was nuts.

"Thank you, Bethany, I'm fine." There was fake cheerfulness thrown into his voice, and I couldn't tell if Bethany noticed. "I just… I was just talking to myself. Wondering how it happened, is all. Thank you for your concern."

He didn't let her add anything else. She raised a finger, opening her mouth, but before she could get another word out, Morty slammed the door, turning around and leaning on it. He blinked a few times, like he was trying to refocus. Then, looking at me, he hit his fist against the door. I sincerely hoped Bethany wasn't still standing there.

"They think I'm crazy. Didn't you hear her?" He sounded frustrated, and I frowned, wiping my eyes one last time. "How is it that I can see you, but they can't? Why am I the only one?"

I opened my mouth, shaking my head. "I… I don't know, I just… Well, you did tell me once that because of your training you could see things that others can't. Maybe that has something to do with it."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't talking about _this_." He pushed himself off the door, walking closer to me. "I'm talking to a human ghost… I've never _seen_ a human ghost before. Ghost Pokémon are my specialty, not… you."

Ouch.

"But Morty!" I cried out, getting back up. Even standing, I was a good head shorter than him, and I had to look up to meet his eyes. "You're the only one who can see me—and hear me."

"Right, and my Gym Trainers are quickly losing their respect for me because I'm talking to air."

Touché. But I didn't want him to just push me away, to send me out of his Gym. Now that I had found someone who could see me, I didn't want to leave him. Of course, it probably wasn't fair of me to ask this of him, but I knew from experience that life wasn't fair. Morty had this coming.

"Morty, are you asking me to leave?" I whispered, and he sighed. "I don't know what to do."

Go back to haunting people (not that I had gotten very far) when I knew _someone_ could see me? No way.

"I'm not asking you to leave. But could you at least… I don't know. Try not to make me sound like a complete loony?" I nodded, probably too enthusiastically, and he shook his head. "Ghost Pokémon and ghost Trainers… Lyra, I'm really sorry about this. You were too young to die."

I nodded, unable to say anything else. Because what else could I say? _Yes, I was too young to die, but I did. Thanks for your sympathy? Even though now I'm a ghost, and you're the only one who can see me?_

I settled with saying, "I'm sorry, too. It's not fair to ask you to babysit me for eternity."

His eyes widened, and he shook his head. "Not eternity."

I raised an eyebrow, confused. Well, perhaps not eternity. He would surely die sometime between now and then, too. But at least for a good chunk of time. Because while I was haunting him, I was not going to let anyone hurt him.

"We're going to find out what's keeping you here. Then, you'll jump planes to the land of the dead."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Kind of a short chapter, but that's all right. I wanted to give all the important information out. And I did. So… yeah.

Poor Morty is going insane. I guess all that searching for Ho-oh got to him or something. XD

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Apparently death was a lot more complex than I initially believed.

Morty tried to explain it to me in the simplest of terms, but it all seemed way beyond my capability of understanding. It definitely took a special mind to figure out everything that Morty had come up with, but this was why Morty was such an expert on ghosts. He knew everything about death and life and ghosts. Honestly, I just respected him more because of it.

"I've done some research. There are three planes: two spectral planes, known as the Plane of the Dead and the Plane of the Unborn, and one earthly plane, known as the Plane of the Living," Morty had told me. "The Plane of the Living is where we are right now. Except, theoretically, the only creatures that are supposed to be walking on the Plane of the Living are living ones. Basically, you aren't supposed to be here."

Well, sure, that had made sense to me. I didn't see very many other ghosts walking around like me. In fact, I didn't see any. So, if that wasn't hint enough that I wasn't supposed to be here, this definitely cleared things up.

"Ghost Pokémon are different. They are born ghosts. Technically, they can't die, but they aren't dead to begin with because they were created." Morty took out his Gengar for example, but I didn't see anything different. Now, I was becoming confused. "My Gengar isn't a soul like you. He's a being. When other Pokémon die, their souls move on to the Plane of the Dead—like humans. They don't turn into ghost Pokémon."

"What do you mean, 'Soul like me'?"

"When the body dies, the soul no longer has a vessel to carry it. That's why it moves on to the Plane of the Dead. But you remained here for some reason. I'm assuming that you have some unfinished business, and that's why you won't move on. Once we figure out what is keeping you here, you'll leave this plane."

I hadn't liked hearing that. Though I was sure Morty was just telling me what he knew, I was angry with him. What if I didn't want to move on? What if I didn't want to go to that stupid Plane of the Dead? The Plane of the Living was where I had always been. It was what I knew.

"What happens when I get there?" I asked, crossing my arms and staring at Morty with narrowed eyes. "What if I don't want to go?"

Morty had just looked uncomfortable. "Well…" Then, shrugging, he shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm thinking you just… go on. To Heaven or Hell or whatever else is out there. No one knows what happens after death—even me. Ghost Pokémon are completely different, like I said." He paused, and I could tell that he didn't want to tell me something. People just sometimes had those _looks_.

"Morty, what aren't you telling me?"

"Lyra, I'm really not certain what happens in the Plane of the Dead. But I'm guessing if you move on, you won't remember not wanting to."

_Huh?_

The confused look on my face was apparently enough to make Morty elaborate. "I said there were three planes, right? Two spectral and one earthly? Well, the soul always follows the same path; it's created in the Plane of the Unborn, then, it takes on its solid form in the Plane of the Living, and it… does whatever it does in the Plane of the Dead. But we don't remember anything that happened in the Plane of the Unborn, right? No one does. So, I'm not sure you would remember anything about the Plane of the Living when you move onto the Plane of the Dead."

This had just made me laugh. It sounded completely ridiculous. This whole _thing_ sounded completely ridiculous! Maybe Morty _was_ going insane. None of this made sense. It just sounded like some crap science fiction fantasy show that needed to be cancelled.

"Lyra…"

I just laughed some more. I was so angry with Morty, frustrated with his stupid planes and his stupid theories. Why couldn't death be easier? Wasn't death supposed to be this beautiful, peaceful thing? It was turning out to be a joke.

"You're wrong! You are completely wrong!" I slammed my hand on the desk, solid once again. "What if I don't want to forget? Because I don't! I loved my life. It's not fair. Morty…" I took my hand off the desk and reached out towards him, and he grasped my fingers in his. "It just isn't fair! Why can't I remember?"

"I really don't know what will happen, Lyra. But I seriously doubt that you'll want to spend eternity here." He smiled, trying to act reassuring, but he was horrible at it. I chose not to mention this.

His fingers slipped through mine, and he dropped his hand, staring at my seemingly-solid arm with a curious expression. "Odd. I wonder why you're solid sometimes. You've walked through walls and desks and people… but you don't slip through the floor."

I shrugged. Like I would know.

"It must have something to do with the electrical conductivity of plasma. Ghosts are supposedly made up of plasma, and it is electrically conductive. It must be similar to lightning. In some cases, lightning will be formed from negatively charged ions in the ground meeting the positively charged ones in clouds. So, the lightning basically rises from the ground and bounces off the cloud back to the ground." Morty stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. "Though flooring doesn't have the same electrical charge as earth, it should be relatively the same. Your charge and the charge of the ground keep you from falling through the floor."

I pretended as if I knew what Morty was talking about. In actuality, I didn't have a clue. Morty seemed to be some ghost and physics and chemistry and weather expert, and I was just _not_. Why was he the one who could see me? I couldn't understand anything he said.

Days passed like this. I had to stay in Morty's office most of the time, but it wasn't my choice. Morty was off doing Pokémon battles and official Gym business while I was shut away in a tiny room twiddling my thumbs. I watched the occasional battle, but honestly, it just upset me. I still had no idea where my Pokémon were. And it wasn't like I could battle with them anymore.

Where else could I possibly go, especially when Morty was the only one who could see me? I didn't want to leave him all alone (well, er, I didn't want to be all alone). I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't bathe. I didn't need to anymore. But it made the days seem all that longer and far more boring.

I couldn't ask Morty to give up everything for me. I couldn't. It was selfish of me to even be here, lingering in his office. But to ask him to entertain me while I waited for him to finish his _work_ and come help me figure out why I was still here? Wrong. Just plain wrong.

I could figure this out on my own. I didn't need Morty. And while I really didn't want to fade away from the world and forget everything that happened, it wasn't like I would _mind_ forgetting once I got to the Plane of the Dead; I wouldn't remember ever being angry, anyway. I just needed to be rational.

Well, that was that, then. I would leave as soon as Morty got back from whatever he was doing today. I didn't know where the heck I was going—to find my mother, maybe. Perhaps since I was emotionally attached to her, she would be able to see me! Though that clearly wasn't the case with Morty… he just had special powers.

"Morty, I want to—" I started when he walked back into his office. It had been four days since my death, and I had been haunting the office for far too long.

"Look," he interrupted, beginning to hand a letter to me before remember that I couldn't hold it. He sighed, sliding the envelope off and showing the contents to me: a four by six photo of me, a newspaper clipping, and two handwritten letters. I remembered my mom taking that picture—a candid shot of me. It was my eighteenth birthday party, and I had just finished getting ready when my mom snuck up on me and took a picture.

I never got to see it until now.

He showed me one of the letters next. "That's my mom's handwriting," I said, reaching out to take the letter and read it, but my hand slipped through it. "Damn it."

He put it down on his desk, backing away so I could read it silently. My mom had the most perfect handwriting in the world; she used to laugh at me because mine was so messy, so unlike hers. _Just like your father's handwriting, Lyra_, she told me.

_Dear Leader Morty,_

_She spoke very highly of you. I thought you would like this letter she sent me. It's just a little something to remember her shining personality by, as well as some inspirational words for you._

There was no closing. My mom must have been writing this in a hurry. I looked back at Morty, gesturing for the next piece, and he put my own letter down in front of me. I smiled, laughing. Sometimes I had difficulty reading my own handwriting.

"Have you read this yet?" I asked him, and he shook his head. "Okay, then, I'll read it aloud." I cleared my throat. "'Dear Mom… I got my fourth Gym badge today from Leader Morty of Ecruteak City! He trains ghost-type Pokémon. He was really strong, and I almost couldn't beat him. But I did.

"'I met him before my battle in the Burned Tower. He was with his friend Eusine investigating three legendary Pokémon. I really wish Leader Morty and Eusine the best of luck. I know what it's like to chase a dream. Leader Morty says that our potentials aren't very different, but I have something more than that. Well, I think he does, too. He'll figure that out soon.

"'I'm heading to Olivine City next. I'll write to you soon, Mom! Love, Lyra.'" I stared at the note, smiling. "I sound so immature. This was a long time ago." Turning to Morty, I laughed. "I really almost lost to you. Do you remember that? I only had my Noctowl left against your Gengar."

He nodded, a tiny smile on his lips. "Yes, but none of Gengar's moves were hitting because Noctowl is a normal-type."

"Right. That was fun." I paused, looking at the newspaper clipping in his hands. "And what's that one?"

He held the clipping out towards me, and I looked at another picture of myself. "Obituary. Your funeral is tomorrow in New Bark Town."

"Oh." I bit my lip. I didn't want to read that one. This poor soul couldn't handle it. "Are you going to go?"

He looked at me, making a humming noise with an uncomfortable expression. "Well…"

"Oh," I said again. All right, so I was kind of hoping that he was going to go. If I was planning on going to visit my mother anyways, it would be even better if Morty came with me. I was used to traveling alone, but it was the whole seeing-my-mother-and-not-being-able-to-talk-to-her thing. Or talk to anyone. Maybe Morty could translate.

In fact, maybe that was the reason Morty could see and hear me. Maybe he was supposed to translate for me—because maybe that was why I was still here. I could have some secret message to deliver that I needed Morty to give!

Yeah, some secret message that even I didn't know…

Morty's eyes widened, and he waved his hands like a lunatic at me. "No, no, no, I didn't mean it like that! I didn't say I wasn't going. I just… I didn't want to leave you here alone. I didn't know if you would be up for going to your own funeral."

"Oh!" I said a third time. "Actually, Morty, I wanted to go find my mother, anyway. And I've never been to a funeral before. Better my own than someone else's right?"

"Not many people would say that," Morty muttered, and I smiled.

"Well, I'm not many people. I'm Lyra, the dead girl turned ghost." This got a chuckle out of him, however morbid a subject it was. "You know, as much as being dead _sucks_, I think it's getting better. But… seeing everyone tomorrow… That'll be hard. Will you be able to bear with me? Because if you really want to go by yourself, I can stay behind and go another time."

Morty shook his head. "No, if you don't go, I don't go. I'm not leaving you here by yourself. I know I'm not really around as much as I should be, but—"

"No, don't say that," I interrupted, crossing my arms. "That's not fair. You have a _life_ to live. You don't have to sit here and babysit me. So, if you want to go to my funeral without me, you can. My mother can wait. She probably won't be able to see me, anyway, so it doesn't make a difference if I go tomorrow or ten years from now."

He nodded. "Well, that's great. But you're coming with me because you _clearly_ want to go to your own funeral. And if you need a shoulder to cry on… you can pretend to do it on mine since you'd probably just fall through me anyway."

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Hey, don't make fun of the dead girl."

He held his hands up in front of him in a surrendering pose, still holding the newspaper clipping between his index and middle finger. "Fine. I won't." He paused. "Plasma girl."

"Hey!" I narrowed my eyes. "That's lightning girl to you!"

"Ah, _lightning_ girl." Morty raised his eyebrows. "Well, lightning girl, we have a funeral to go to. And since you can't fly on a Pokémon, we're going to have to start thinking of ways to get to New Bark Town fast."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Lots of fun educational stuff in this chapter! The whole stuff with the plasma and the lightning and stuff! (I'm secretly hoping that many of you had no idea what I was talking about, so you can't prove Morty's theory wrong, haha.) Actually, the thing about the lightning is true. And plasma is electrically conductive. Yay for physics!

I always try to put some sort of educational piece into my writing. Heh. Can you tell that I'm majoring in education in college?

I don't know if I made Morty's age clear yet. But he's twenty-six in this fanfiction (and Lyra was eighteen). I don't know how accurate that is, but… creative liberties in the works here. XD

Also, I'm trying to stay a chapter ahead now. So, chapter four is actually done. But I'm gonna wait until I finish chapter five to post chapter four. I think that's a little better.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"Teleporting? Can it teleport us that far? Will it even be able to transport _me_?"

Morty looked unsure. Not a good thing to see from a man who I was basically relying on for everything, but then, he had never had to deal with a human ghost before. Still, this wasn't particularly reassuring. My molecular disposition seemed to be much different than that of a human or a Pokémon—if I had a molecular disposition at all. The whole being able to walk through things seemed to make me think otherwise.

"Well, we won't know until we try, right?" he said cheerfully, seemingly _attempting_ to sound sure and failing miserably. I gave him my best skeptical look. "Look, we could at least try. It's either that, or we walk. Your being solid only seems to last for a half a minute at best, so flying is completely out of the question. And it's too far to walk there by tomorrow."

"This is all my mother's fault." I crossed my arms, shaking my head with disappointment. "She should have sent that clipping sooner. But she was probably searching and searching for that dang letter. Geez, she's probably cleaning out my room!" I paused, getting back on topic. "Anyway, now, we're screwed. Well, if I can't make it, you can fly over, and I'll stay here. It's not a big deal at all."

"Lyra." His eyes were hard, narrowed. "We're both going. If we don't get there today or tomorrow, I will still make sure you get there. And your mother isn't at fault here. I'm sure it's been very hard for her preparing for her child's funeral. Parents don't usually plan to outlive their children. It's been hard on everyone…"

I couldn't meet his eyes anymore. Well, that was one way to send me on a guilt trip. "Look, Morty, I'm sorry. I didn't know that you'd be able to see me when I came here."

Morty held up his hands, shaking his head. "I didn't mean that. I just meant that I'm sure your death has been hard on everyone. I think you really made an impact on the world. Think about all you've done in just eighteen years. You've accomplished more than most people." There was a silent, _Imagine what you could have done_ lingering, but he didn't say it. "You've changed lives. People are going to really miss you."

I smiled, knowing that he was looking for one, but I didn't mean it. "What about you? I mean, you know I'm dead, but you'll probably be the only one at the funeral who can see me. So, you probably won't be as… sad as everyone else."

"Lyra, you're still dead. And I won't be faking sadness about that."

I met his eyes again, but they were serious, dark. It was weird. Eyes betrayed us so often, telling the truth when we wouldn't, but they were one of the greatest means of communication. Anything we couldn't say could be told through our eyes.

"Yes, but it's not really the same." I leaned in closer to Morty, whispering even though no one else could hear me, anyway. It was all for effect. He didn't back away like I thought he might but stood still, solid. "It's not really like I'm dead to you. I'm still here."

Morty's eyes flashed. There it was: the something he was hiding.

I took a step away from him, putting my hands on my hips. But he waved me off, walking to the door and putting his hand on the knob. Well, if he wasn't going to tell me, I would just have to pester him until he did. That always worked with Silver and Ethan. Tickling was my other method of interrogation, but I couldn't do that anymore.

He glanced back at me, hand twitching on the doorknob. "Look, we're going to have to try teleportation now. If it doesn't work, we need to start walking. So, stop procrastinating and come with me." He turned the knob, opening the door and walking out. I decided to walk through the wall instead, but Morty just rolled his eyes at me.

"Hey, if I'm a ghost, I'm going to live like one."

That just got me another roll of the eyes from Morty. But he didn't do a very good job of muffling the chuckle under his breath. I caught that, and I hurried to the front of him, walking backwards and pointing a finger in his face.

"I heard that, Morty! I heard it!"

He just ignored me, walking around me—when he could have just gone through me, silly man—and continuing on. "Psychic-types are the only Pokémon who can use Teleport. I run a ghost Gym, not a psychic one. So, we have to borrow an Abra—from one of my Gym Trainers. Lyle has one, actually. But I haven't talked to him since you came."

Well, since I'd shown up, the Gym Trainers _had_ been looking at Morty with one of _those_ expressions. And it seemed to be Lyle's fault, since he was the one telling all the Trainers that Morty was talking to himself in his office about me. All the Trainers seemed genuinely concerned, but it was just odd.

We found Lyle battling in the arena with some random girl, a challenger who wasn't going to get her battle today. When Morty walked in the room, seemingly alone, she dropped her focus, looking over at him with wide eyes. I picked up my pace, walking beside Morty before remembering that she could see through me, anyway. Frustrated, I settled with just glaring at the girl.

Wait. What? Why did I care?

"Lyle!" Morty called out, completely ignoring the googly-eyed girl and walking straight up to his Gym Trainer. I smiled, smug. Morty was all business. Lyle, on the other hand, was focused on his battle. We walked to his side of the field, stopping beside him and watching the battle finish. The girl won, much to my chagrin.

"This girl wants to battle you, sir," Lyle said, and the girl hurried across the field with her Flaaffy tagging close behind.

"Hi," she said, staring at Morty and completely disregarding Lyle. "I'm Chelsea. I was wondering if I could have a battle with you."

Morty glanced quickly at the girl, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I actually can't take any challengers today. I'm attending my friend's funeral tomorrow and wanted to leave today." He sounded so solemn, and Chelsea gasped, covering her mouth with her hand in fake sympathy. Jerk. She wasn't even trying to sound convincing. I was that friend. That was my funeral he was talking about!

Morty turned to Lyle and continued. "That's actually why I wanted to talk to you. May I borrow your Abra? I wanted to Teleport to New Bark Town, rather than Flying or driving. It's far more convenient."

Lyle reached under his shirt and unclipped a Poké Ball from his belt, handing it to Morty. "Yeah, no problem." Then, in a whisper, he added, "Are you feeling all right, sir?"

"I'm _feeling_ fine. But I _am_ attending a good friend's funeral, and that's really hard," Morty replied, his voice cool. I blinked, lowering my gaze when Morty's eyes flashed back towards me. "Lyra was the Champion. She was Ho-oh's Chosen One. This girl was special, Lyle. And she was only eighteen."

Well, that was one way to make Lyle feel guilty for thinking Morty was crazy. I reached a hand out before retracting it, shaking my head. "Morty, come on, let's go," I said, for fear that Lyle—or Morty—would say something they'd regret later. I could see the words lingering on Lyle's lips, like he was about to say something. I went to pull on Morty's arm, drag him out of here with the Abra, but my hand couldn't grasp it.

"I am sorry, Leader Morty," Lyle said, and I knew that this, at least, was sincere. "She sounded like an inspirational girl. But we—the Trainers here—were thinking that maybe you shouldn't attend the funeral. You seem to be taking this death abnormally hard, considering you didn't know Champion Lyra all that well, and we're worried that if you attend the funeral, you would—"

Abnormally hard? He seemed fine whenever he was around me.

"I knew her!" Morty narrowed his eyes, and I watched as Chelsea backed away, her Flaaffy close to her.

"Hey, Morty, let's go," I said, starting to get nervous. Lyle was in the wrong here. He never should have suggested not going to the funeral—for whatever reason. It wasn't his decision to make, anymore than it was mine. Morty could go if he wanted to, with or without me, but that was his choice. Lyle was wrong.

Morty looked back at me, his voice cool as he replied, "Fine."

"Who have you been talking to, Morty?" Lyle asked, and I put my face in my hands, groaning. This was getting way out of hand. So what if Morty was talking to a girl that was supposed to be dead but was floating around in the wrong plane? He was a Leader of ghost-types. How odd was it, honestly, that he could see human ghosts, too? "Here, in your office? Is Lyra really dead?"

"You have the Abra, Morty. Just come on. You don't need to stand here and answer him? You are _his_ superior. Just walk away." When Morty shook his head, I stomped my foot like a child having a tantrum. "Morty, come on!" I grumbled, trying to get a grasp on his arm again. This time, I had a solid hold, and I pulled.

To everyone else, it must have looked like Morty was possessed, pulled by some strange force off in another direction. But I kept pulling, sliding my hand down to his and dragging him by the hand. And when I started running, he ran with me back to his office. Well, as awkward as that whole situation was, it could have been worse.

I didn't know _how_ it could have been worse… it just could've.

"Sorry," I said, meaning it. I dropped his hand, going to sit down on one of the armchairs while I was still solid, but my butt went through it. I fell to the floor. "Hey, this is all _my_ fault, so why don't we just push that whole thing aside and get out of here."

"Your fault?" Morty repeated, looking incredulous as I rose to my feet. "Dying was your fault? Yes, because you can definitely control _drowning_."

I gestured to the Poké Ball in his hands, not wanting to continue this conversation. Sure, I couldn't have stopped myself from drowning, but it was my fault that I was even here. It was my fault that Lyle thought the poor guy was bonkers. It was my fault that Morty was defending a dead girl that no one else could see.

"Come on. You said we should get started off now."

Morty looked at the Poké Ball he was holding and sent out the Abra. It clearly sensed my presence, as it kept twitching whenever I moved. This was good, at least. A psychic-type Pokémon especially should have been able to sense my presence. Hopefully, it would be able to teleport me to New Bark Town.

"I was thinking, Lyra," Morty started, and I stared at him as he paused, contemplating something. "Maybe people will be able to see you at the funeral. Because thus far, you've only seen people you didn't know and me, correct?" I nodded. "Well, I'm the only one you know. I have a connection to you. So, maybe people who have a connection to you will be able to see you—people at the funeral. Perhaps they can see you."

I tried not to look too excited, but I knew my eyes were betraying me. The thought of other people seeing me was too wonderful for words! It would be like I never even died—other than the whole not being solid thing. But if _everyone_ who had a connection to me could see me, then it'd be more of a party than a funeral when I got there. And I wouldn't have to see my mother cry.

But there was something else Morty wasn't telling me. The excitement completely vanished from me the instant I met his eyes. They betrayed him, too.

"What?" I asked, and he shook his head. "No, come on, you have to tell me."

"I'll tell you when you get there, Lyra." He smiled, promising, but I didn't believe him. He wasn't going to tell me then. "Come on, you're right, we have to go. I think I procrastinate more than you do." He turned to Abra, lowering himself to the Pokémon's level. "Abra, I need you to use Teleport to transport Lyra—and myself—to New Bark Town. New Bark Town. In front of Lyra's house, if you can."

The Abra just continued to look like it was sleeping, but when I moved towards it, it twitched again. I looked at Morty, crossing my arms. "Well, it knows where I am, at least."

"Lyra, I'm going to send you first. I don't want to send both of us at the same time and find out that you didn't make it. So, when you get there, just wait where you are for me to come. If Abra can't Teleport you, you won't even leave this room." He tried to give me a reassuring smile, but I frowned at him. "I'll see you when I get there."

"All right. Are you sure? Not just half of me will show up at my house, right? I don't think, if people _can_ see me, they'd appreciate only getting to see my butt and legs. It might freak them out."

Morty stifled a laugh before looking at the Abra. "All, Abra, use Teleport on Lyra. Send her to her house in New Bark Town."

Abra began to stir, its eyelids opening to show white, glowing eyes. I felt funny, and in a moment, the whole room began to shake. I stared at Morty, wondering if this was right, but by the time I saw him, the whole room disappeared.

Just like that, I was gone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Lyle is very immature even though he's probably in his early twenties. He doesn't really consider Morty's feelings on the situation. Poor Chelsea is kind of left staring there like, "WTF?"—and then when Morty seemingly gets pulled by air, it's even more astounding. But Lyle is definitely wrong in saying the things he said. If someone you know is attending a funeral, you probably shouldn't tell them not to go and accuse them of being overemotional. Not a good idea. (Especially when that person is, like, your boss.)

So, there is the possibility that other people will be able to see Lyra (if she makes it there—dun, dun, dun!). But you'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out if they can!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

I felt like I was drowning all over again. Darkness encompassed me, swallowing me. I tried to fight back, attempting to force my arms and legs into motion, but I was frozen in space. Though I didn't even need to breathe anymore, I felt myself gasping, trying to escape the smothering darkness, trying to escape. It wrapped around me like a constrictor, and everything seemed so wrong about this teleportation. It took too long, made me too scared, and I wanted to stop.

Closing my eyes, I stopped fighting. Just like in the sea, I let myself fall, all my struggles ceasing. I felt like I was floating now, bobbing up and down in the ocean of black light, feeling a new peace. If this was death, this was what I had been expecting. Peace, quiet, tranquility. I could float here forever and ever, just bobbing for hours and days and years. If this was death, this was what I had wanted.

"No, it's not," a voice whispered, sounding eerily like mine own. I reached a hand to my lips, touching them, unable to remember if I had been the one to say that. Then, feeling them move, I dropped my hand. "Remember what Morty told you? You're still on the Plane of the Living for a reason. Go find it."

I opened my eyes to find myself standing in front of my house, exactly where Abra was meant to send me. I barely had time to blink before Morty and the Abra were there beside me, looking pleased that this had actually worked. But I was beyond confused about what happened to me when I teleported. Because it certainly wasn't what I had expected.

"It must have taken you a long time to get here," Morty told me, glancing me over. Apparently everything came; I wasn't missing a leg or anything. "It took about two minutes for Abra to finish using Teleport for you, but it only took a few seconds for the two of us. But you made it, so Abra did a good job."

I smiled weakly, looking at the Abra before Morty returned it to its Poké Ball. Sure, it got me here, but the teleportation was probably way different for me than it was for the two of them. I seriously doubted that they had just met their death a second time, considering they hadn't met it a first time.

The door to the house swung open without Morty having knocked on it. A woman with puffy red-eyes stood, looking at Morty with a surprised expression. She sniffled, and Morty turned away from me to face the woman. I couldn't help but to become so overcome with emotion at the sight of my mother. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and hug her and tell her I loved her. But I couldn't.

Because she couldn't see me.

"Oh." My mom raised her hands to her eyes, rubbing them dry of any tears. It just made the redness worse. I wanted to wave my hands in front of her face, scream as loud as I could, beg for her to see me, and it took all the power in me to stay quiet. But I heard myself whimper, and Morty's eyes flickered to me for a moment. "You're… Leader Morty of Ecruteak City, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." Morty made a little bow. "I'm terribly sorry about your loss. Lyra is—was…" He sighed, stopping himself. "Lyra has always been a wonderful girl. No doubt she has always made you very proud."

My mom made a weak smile, nodding. "She has. She was the best daughter anyone could have asked for. But Lyra's funer—" She stopped, and I could tell that she didn't want to say the word. That would mean accepting it, admitting defeat. And she wasn't going to that easily. "Well, it's not until tomorrow."

Morty nodded solemnly. "I know. I just, um, had to Teleport here, and I didn't know if my Abra would be able to do it. So, if it didn't work, I could leave and get here in enough time for tomorrow. I can leave, if you'd like—"

Mom gasped, shaking her head. "Oh, no. Please, you can stay here. I don't want to make you go back and forth. Unfortunately, I don't have any spare rooms. I haven't had a chance to go in Lyra's room since… well, I just haven't been in there. She always leaves it a mess." She sniffled again, and I whimpered once more. "I do have a futon in the living room that you can use, though, if you don't mind sleeping downstairs."

I was nodding before Morty even glanced over at me, silently begging him to accept her offer. I wanted to go back into my room, to look at the mess I left, to stare for hours at the stuff I could never touch again. And while I could definitely do that without being noticed, I didn't want to ditch Morty here.

"Thank you so much. I know you must be very busy, and I would be glad to help out anyway I can, ma'am," Morty said, and I was so happy that I could hug him. My mom even smiled a little bit at him, and she nodded, opening the door wider.

"Come on in, Leader Morty."

Morty walked in, still carrying that Poké Ball with the Abra inside, but when my mom shut the door behind him, I couldn't get through. I walked straight into the door instead of through it, bumping off of it and falling to the ground. The door swung back open, and my mom poked her head out, looking for whoever had just thumped on the door. Morty leaned from behind the door me and stared at me, watching as I crawled through the opening into my house, careful not to bump my mother.

"Well, that was mildly inconvenient," I said once I got inside my house, standing up and avoiding my mother as she shut the door and swung around. "Morty, I'm going to go to my room, okay? I don't think my mom really wants anyone in there right now, but since it's mine… well, I'm going to go look around. Please help my mom. I hate to ask that of you, but I think she's a little stressed and depressed."

Morty nodded, following my mother into the kitchen as she walked away. I headed for the stairs, maneuvering around the furniture instead of walking through it. I didn't know if I was still solid, and I didn't want to take any chances of freaking my mother out _before_ the funeral. Especially when poor Morty was the only one there.

"Did you get my letter?" I heard my mom ask, and I stopped before the stairs to listen. Putting my hand on the banister, and finding that I was still solid, I leaned against it. Morty must have nodded, since she continued. "Lyra really did speak very highly of you. And she certainly believed in you a lot. I remember when she came home one time, all she did was talk about you and your search for that legendary Pokémon, Ho-oh. She thought you were amazing."

"Ho-oh chose her, though. She was the amazing one. Such a young girl, with a heart like hers… it was no surprise to me when Ho-oh recognized her. I couldn't have been more proud. I don't think I made that clear enough, but…"

I pushed off of the banister, walking closer to the kitchen to hear better. "She always had a strong heart. And I suspect she knew how proud everyone was—because she was always trying to make us proud," my mom said in a quiet voice, and I stepped closer again. "She had just called the other day to tell me that she was going to the Whirl Islands, and after that, she would be returning home. And now… well, she's home, but—"

My mom's voice cracked, and she broke off. I could hear her start to cry, and I shook my head, backing away to the stairs again. Why had I wanted to come? To see if this was going to make me move on? This just made me feel worse about being dead. I couldn't handle this.

I hurried up the stairs to my room, opening the door and closing it carefully behind me. I had never been solid for this long—while dead, anyways—and it felt weird being able to touch again. It was even stranger when I saw my bed and collapsed on it, feeling the fluffy blanket that my grandma had once made me, loving the feeling of the pillow behind my head.

And then, rolling over, I stuffed my face into my pillow and cried.

Feeling guilty about being dead was something I had never expected, and something that I had never even considered before. When I thought of ghosts, I thought of poltergeists and Pokémon, not of someone like me who just floated around and felt horrible about being dead. I never thought I would even die. I felt invincible.

I let everyone down. My mom, Morty, the world. Sure, people were proud of me, but honestly, I could have done more with my life. I was careless, young, naïve, foolish, and so horribly mistaken in my view of death.

My mother would never want me to feel guilty, and I was sure Morty wouldn't, either. But as I lay there, I couldn't stop that feeling in my gut from rising up and taking me over. Even though I knew I couldn't get sick, I felt ill. I should never have come here, never have thought that this would make everything go away. It just made everything worse.

I didn't know how long I was lying on my bed crying, but when I finally looked up from the pillow, it was night, the darkness pouring in through my windows. I had been solid for hours, crying on and hugging my pillow, loving the familiarity of my bed, the scent of my own self. The tears continued to drip down my face even as I let my pillow go and sat up on my bed.

Looking around my room, seeing all the things I had once owned (and truly seeing that I _had_ indeed left my room a mess), I couldn't stay in here any longer. I stood up, walking over to a few of my favorite things and brushing a hand over them, feeling them one last time. And then I headed out of my door, leaving things exactly as they were.

The door to my mom's room was shut. I hadn't even heard her come upstairs, and if she had snuck a peek in my room, I hadn't noticed. Secretly thankful that she couldn't hear me, because I was probably making a lot of noise with my crying, I walked down the stairs to the living room, grasping the banister if only because I could.

I stared at Morty on the futon for a few seconds, just watching as he slept peacefully beneath the blankets my mom had given him. Wiping my eyes, I sat down on the ground beside the futon, hugging my knees. Maybe if I just took the Abra while I was still solid, I could leave. Morty didn't need me here.

No. I knew I would feel guilty if I left him. Even though I couldn't help him deal with my mother and I was probably the biggest pain in the butt in the world, I didn't want Morty to be mad at me for leaving. Plus, I was still interested in watching my funeral, even if I would be a wreck during it. There was still a possibility of other people being able to see me.

Lying down, I stared at the ceiling. I hadn't ever noticed that my ceiling was painted white. It was trivial things like this that I had taken for granted. And, sure, while the color of my ceiling never affected me at all—and, honestly, still didn't—it was just something about my life that I had missed. What else hadn't I noticed?

I hadn't noticed Morty get up and lay down next to me. It was only when his arm brushed mine that I looked over, seeing his face beside mine on the ground instead of on the futon. His head was so close to mine that I could feel his blonde hair tickling my forehead. We watched each other for what seemed like minutes, eyes on eyes.

"Lyra, my shoulder is still available. And you're solid right now, so you can actually use it if you want," he finally whispered, and even though I knew he was trying to make me smile, I couldn't. He sighed, and I reached a hand up to wipe the tears out of my eyes. It was embarrassing; I had never cried in front of a guy in my life.

"I'm sorry," I whispered back, but he shook his head, careful not to bump me.

"Don't be."

He held his hand face-up between us, and without hesitating, I slipped my hand into it. There were no other words exchanged between us, no move made. We just lay on the floor, hand in hand, staring at each other until Morty drifted to sleep, holding on until his hand fell right through mine.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ugh, depressing chapter. And next chapter is the funeral, so I seriously doubt that will be the happiest thing in the world. Why do I write such angsty things? I have no idea. Why do I answer my own questions? I also have no idea.

I want to hold Morty's hand. Just saying.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

"It's a beautiful day, Lyra."

His lips were so close to my ear that I could feel his breath when he whispered this to me. I turned my head a little to look at Morty, seeing his tired eyes and weak smile. Giving a tiny smile in return, I watched as he sat up with a groan, rubbing his back with one of his hands. I sat up beside him, shaking my head.

"You shouldn't have slept on the floor. As lovely as this hardwood is, it's not the most comfortable flooring in the world. You probably did something to your back, and now you'll be walking around like the Hunchback of Notre Dame," I told him, but he just scoffed at me, rolling his eyes for an added effect.

He stood up, stretching his arms and legs and twisting his back. With a nasty _crack_, he sighed, rolling his eyes once again when I stuck out my tongue in disgust. That back crack must have worked, though, since he didn't look nearly so bothered anymore. And he certainly wasn't walking around like Quasimodo.

Reaching a hand down to help me up, I attempted to grasp it, forgetting for a moment that I had returned to my "normal" ghostly state during the night. When my hand went through his, he dropped his arm to his side, and I stood up on my own. There was a little period of silence, awkward instead of peaceful.

"Whoops," he finally muttered, so quietly that it was more like a hiss than a whisper. "I guess I forgot."

_Or hoped,_ I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue and looked out the window. Well, it was a beautiful day outside. I'd give him that. It was probably wrong of me to be upset with this; most people wanted nice weather on the day of their funeral (though, honestly, who actually thought about that?). But in the movies, it was always raining or cloudy out. I wanted _that_.

"Oh, Morty, you're awake," my mom said, leaning her head out of the kitchen and into the living room. She smiled at him, but I saw right through it. She was dreading this day. I didn't blame her, but she really was making it hard on herself by faking this indifference. "I made some breakfast. I hope you like scrambled eggs and toast."

Morty walked away, leaving me in the living room alone. I didn't follow him, but remained in the room, listening to their quiet conversation. Morty trying to help, Mom trying to get him to shut up and sit down and eat. And Morty obliged, doing as she said not because he couldn't be stubborn, but because he wanted to make things easier for her. The faster he sat down, the sooner she would join him and stop working.

Things continued in this manner until the time for my funeral came. While Morty was getting ready, my mom was downstairs going over plans, tear after tear pouring out of her eyes. And then, when she went to get ready, Morty had nothing left to do because my mom had done it all. Finally, there was me, with nothing to do because I could _do_ nothing. Why wasn't I solid now? Why was my body so damn temperamental?

"Lyra?"

I turned, looking at Morty. He was, I had to admit, very dashing in a suit. Definitely not what he usually wore, he seemed uncomfortable and kept adjusting his tie, but I liked it. Different, new, and seemingly awkward, but it was adorable. The only thing that could be changed was the reason he was wearing that suit.

"Are you ready to go? Your mom is upstairs just finishing up, but she told me we would leave in just a few minutes." He pulled at his tie again, and I shrugged. It wasn't like I needed to get ready. It wasn't like I needed an hour in the bathroom anymore. My days of that were over. Now, I always looked the same.

"You sure you want to go to this? We can leave, if you want," he continued in a soft tone, dropping his hands from his tie and focusing his attention on me. I pursed my lips, and he frowned. "I heard you, you know. When you were upstairs in your room. I was upstairs getting ready for bed, and… I could hear you crying."

I swallowed. Well, that was embarrassing—more embarrassing than crying in front of him last night. But right as I was about to defend myself and rebuild my dignity, my mom came down the stairs, muttering to herself. She had put on way too much makeup to cover up the dark circles and the red blotchy spots under her eyes, and the dark eye shadow she had used just made her look tired.

Morty looked away from me and turned to my mother, moving a little towards the door. We walked over to the funeral home in silence, my mother apparently attempting to keep herself from crying (as evident by the strange look on her face), and Morty watching me with a reserved expression that I couldn't quite figure out.

It all seemed so surreal. I watched in awe as people filed into the funeral home—people that I knew, people that I didn't. It seemed like everyone in the region was coming to see me, to say their last goodbyes. And maybe it was a last goodbye for them. But I wasn't quite gone yet. I was just gone enough for them not to see me.

I couldn't go up to look at my body. It was weird to think that I was even separated from myself. This whole thing was just odd. So, I just stood and watched as people went up to my casket and looked, sometimes whispering things, sometimes just staring, sometimes just glancing and walking away.

"You look very peaceful, you know," Morty whispered as subtly as he could, coming up to be after abandoning me for most of this time, "and very pretty."

I glanced down at myself, despite my knowing that he was walking about the other me—the one that people could actually see. But I still frowned, feeling severely underdressed for the occasion. While everyone else wore black suits and dresses, I was in my bright, casual clothing. My mother would have been very embarrassed by me.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better. But I don't." I looked around, searching for the faces I wanted to see. "I don't see my friends."

"You mean that redhead kid? And… that other boy that looks your age? I saw them a few minutes ago. They haven't gone up to the casket yet. They're… keeping their distance from it." Morty's eyes traveled over to a pair of boys in the back of the room, and I followed them, seeing Silver and Ethan staring at the casket like I was about to jump out of it.

I walked away from Morty without another word, heading over to my two best friends. Waving a hand in front of their faces, and receiving no response, I knew that they couldn't see me, either. I shook my head, disappointing for even hoping that they'd be able to.

"I love you both. Thank you for coming," I said, even though they couldn't hear me. "You guys have been so wonderful to me."

They looked at each other, and with a small nod from both of them, they walked up to the casket. I followed, hoping and praying that they wouldn't start crying. Because I was doing it enough for the both of them.

* * *

"Lyra was… always happy. One of the things that people keep telling me is that they thought she had a bright personality. And she did. When she walked into a room with a smile on her face, everyone else would start smiling with her. Because she was just that kind of person. The kind that could bring joy to other people."

My mom was trying to keep a smile on her face as she said all this, but she really just looked frustrated. Still, it wasn't like I could say anything, and no one else was about to comment on it. I was just standing in the middle of the aisle beside Morty, watching my mother read off a sheet a paper that she had probably worked on for hours or days.

"She was extraordinarily gifted. I let her go off on her Pokémon journey after she had done well in school. She had such raw talent. Professor Elm used to stop by my house just to tell me that the research Lyra was getting was just phenomenal. I was so proud of her. She really put the extra effort into everything she did."

She paused, looking at the same picture of me that she had sent Morty. "I could go on for hours and talk about how amazing a daughter she was. I loved her… _so_ much. And there is no possible way for me to say that enough, and I'm not sure I ever did tell her enough. I just hope that she knows because she loved with every part of her heart. I just want to do the same."

"I do know, Mom. It was me who never said it enough," I whispered, but not quietly enough to keep Morty from hearing. He looked over at me, and I carefully avoided his gaze.

"I'll miss her. She was very young, but she had done so much." My mom paused, wiping her eyes and smearing her mascara across her face. No one murmured. No one said anything. "I didn't, um, ask anyone to write a eulogy. But if anyone wants to come up here and say a few words… I'm sure she would love it."

There was silence, and several people looked around, seeing who was brave enough to speak about me without having planned anything. But it was safe to say that I was the most shocked when Morty rose to his feet. The murmurs that began were loud enough for Morty to whisper, "Come with me," as he passed me.

I was surprised, but I followed him up to the podium, anyway. My mom smiled at him, the first genuine smile that I had seen from her since we had come, and helped adjust the microphone for him. He cleared his throat, and it echoed throughout the room.

"I'm, uh… a Gym Leader. From Ecruteak Gym. And I had the pleasure of battling Lyra several times and, um… I think I became good friends with her," he started, his voice shaking. I had never taken him for one to be nervous in front of a crowd, but as he stared out at the crowd, it wasn't the audience that was making him nervous. That much was clear. And as his eyes drifted to mine, I realized that _I_ was the one making him nervous.

"We all know of Lyra's amazing talents with Pokémon and her incredible achievements. We all know that she was a nice girl, and we all know that she poured her heart and soul into everything. But no one _really_ knows how incredibly brave she was. I'm not talking about taking on Team Rocket or challenging the Elite Four or climbing Mt. Silver. I'm not talking about swimming across seas or facing Ho-oh or any of that other stuff. I'm talking about her ability to never look back—to just keep on going. She isn't afraid of what's going to come."

He looked right at me, staring at _me_. Not the audience, not my mom, but _me_. If he thought I wasn't afraid of what was to come, he was sadly mistaken.

"I've never been to a funeral before," he said, and I raised an eyebrow. "I might be a ghost-type Trainer, but… I've just never been to one. I don't know what to say in these eulogies, and I don't know how to make this better. But, um… I know there are things that Lyra would have wanted you all to know. Things that might be common knowledge, but they should be said again."

He tilted his head at me, and I shook my head. "Morty, are you joking? You want me to get up there and tell you what to say?" When he nodded, so subtly that I almost missed it, I walked closer to him, staring out at the crowd of people who had come for me.

"Um… well… I love my mom, first of all."

"Lyra loved her mother. Even if you feel like you never told her enough, she knew you did, and she loved you back with all her heart," Morty said for me, and I smiled, staring at my mother as she nodded, smearing the makeup again.

"I really appreciate everyone coming, and I miss my friends."

"I know she would have loved to see all of you here. Her friends and family were so important to her, and I'm sure she's watching you right now, missing you."

"I don't want you to pick anyone out of the crowd specifically… besides my mom, I guess. But I want to thank Professor Elm, Silver, Ethan, the Gym Leaders, the Elite Four, and Lance for everything Pokémon related."

"She really appreciated everyone who helped her with her Pokémon training along the way. Every battle she had made her stronger—and made us stronger. She helped _us_, as Trainers and as people, improve."

Morty looked at me again, waiting for something else. But I couldn't think of anything else. While I could say anything that I wanted, as this was probably my last opportunity to have a room full of people that I knew with Morty as my translator, I couldn't—and didn't want to—add anything else. It felt like everything I needed to say had been said. Except one thing.

"One more thing, Morty. I want to thank you for everything. I can't really thank you enough, and I know saying it just once isn't satisfactory. But it's a start, right?"

He inhaled, seemingly holding his breath. And then finally, when he released it, he kept his gaze on me instead of looking at everyone else. "Lyra was, in a word, special. Different from everyone else but in the most positive sense of the word. And if this is goodbye forever, Lyra…" He hardened his gaze as I raised an eyebrow. "Then, I'm glad you found me."

Goodbye… _forever?_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note: **I had a really hard time writing this chapter. Not just because of the subject (plus, I've only ever been to one funeral, and I was too young to remember it), but… I just could not sit down and write. It was really hard for me. I have no idea why. But oh well. It's done. It may not be the greatest chapter in the world, but it's done. And I'm going to move past this and improve. Guaranteed.

Please ignore the fact that Morty mysteriously obtained a suit. I forgot to mention that he brought one in the previous chapter, and I'm too lazy to go back and add that in. :P

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Needless to say, I didn't disappear from the Plane of the Living and move on to the Plane of the Dead right that second. I was probably too surprised by what Morty said to even move. But as he walked already from the podium, I felt my legs moving, forcing me to follow him. It wasn't too long after that I felt my lips move on their own, too.

"Wait a minute!" I called out, following Morty as he headed back towards his seat. I glanced over at the people watching him as he walked, eyes completely missing me. No one seemed to find his comment odd, but it was certainly strange to me. "Hey, Morty, hang on a second, will you? Just stop walking and talk to me. What the hell do you mean by, 'Goodbye forever'? Where do you think I'm going?"

He just continued to walk down the aisle as my mom took the podium again, thanking Morty for the kind comments. Surprising myself, I was more concerned with Morty than I was with whatever my mom was saying. When had he become more important to me? When he was the only person who could see me? That didn't make sense… but I still followed him anyway.

"Morty, please stop!" I begged, knowing that as soon as he sat down, I had zero chance of getting him to respond to me. Nothing seemed different to me; it didn't appear as though I was fading away or vanishing into thin air. Quite the contrary, since as I reached out to grab Morty's wrist, my fingers managed to close around it without problem. "_Wait_."

He finally stopped, frozen in his tracks. A few people glanced over at him, but most everyone seemed too fixated on my mother to look. I couldn't even hear my mother's voice anymore, despite her speaking into the microphone. Everything just seemed silent, the only sounds coming from Morty as he silently whispered, "Come with me."

No one else seemed to notice that he was talking to no one, he said it so quietly. I dropped his wrist, and he continued walking, leaving the room and going outside. The weather had begun to darken, grey clouds rolling in on the horizon, and a cool breeze interrupted the warm air that hit us as we exited the funeral.

"Spill. What did you mean? As you can probably _clearly_ see, I am still here, and I don't plan on leaving any time soon."

"You don't get a choice. You don't get to _plan_ when you leave this plane and move on to the next one. Just like you don't get to choose when you die. Fate takes the reins sometimes, and you can't control it. One minute you'll be there, and the next you won't." Morty sounded annoyed with me now, and I crossed my arms.

"Yes, and one minute you act like you care, and the next you just… act like you want me to vanish as soon as possible." I crossed my arms, feeling psychologically whiplashed. He blinked, looking surprised, but I just shrugged. "Which one is it, Morty, because I can honestly say that I have no idea right now?"

He reached out and grabbed both of my solid shoulders, and I dropped my arms to my sides. "Never doubt for a second that I care, Lyra." His voice was soft but firm, trying to reassure me into believing him. "It's just… I sort of figured that you would disappear once I allowed you to say your final words to everyone. It seemed like the kind of thing that would get you to move on. But obviously I was mistaken in my assumption, and I apologize for that."

I nodded, giving my silent forgiveness, and he dropped his hands. I could see where he would have thought that would make me move on. Because I _didn't_ get to say everything I needed to say to everyone before I died—I still didn't completely, but it would have been weird to have Morty say some of the things I wanted to say (like how much I appreciated having Silver as a rival, how much I _loved_ him and Gold and Lance and the Gym Leaders and… it was too hard to say through someone else's lips).

"Well, even though the time of my disappearance could be after some random event that would force me to move on, I can guarantee that I am _not_ ready to leave this place. Seeing my mom and all my old friends has been great and… depressing at the same time, but I need closure and…" I paused, shaking my head again. "Just so many things. And I'm not going to be ready to leave until I get what I want. My death needs to be fair."

"Lyra, you might never get any more closure than what you have already. You drowned. Your Pokémon are gone. Your funeral has already been held." He gestured to the building, and I dropped my gaze. "I don't know what you're expecting, but—"

"I get it," I interrupted, sighing. "I'm never going to find out where my Pokémon are. And I'm never going to get to do _any_ of the things I wanted to do with my life. I know people would consider me lucky for everything I _have_ done, but… I want more than this. I never meant to die early. Maybe that's why I won't move on. Maybe there's a way for me to come back to life. My body is in there, so what if I go get it and jump back in or—"

I knew I was getting too excited about it, and as I started to head back into the building, Morty grabbed my arm to stop me. Whimpering, I relaxed, submitting and stopping myself from pulling away and walking into that funeral. Because I was wrong.

"Lyra. You can't come back." Morty looked horrified, his eyes wide. "Your body drowned. It's completely dysfunctional now. Even if you could reconnect with your body, you wouldn't be alive. Your body is too destroyed… waterlogged. You would just pop right back out and be sent back here. You won't get to live again."

I felt my eyes watering, and I turned my face away from Morty's, hoping he couldn't see. "What if I tried someone else's body?" I offered, knowing that my voice was betraying me, and he could probably tell that I was crying now. "What if I took a healthy body and connected with that one? Would I be able to live then?"

"The body would have to be dead, and any dead body isn't functional anymore. Theoretically, there is probably you could knock a soul out of living, functional body… but that would basically be murder," Morty responded, sounding grim.

Basically it would be murder… basically, I would never be able to live again. Then _why the hell was I still here_?

The tears began to flow freely then. I let them fall, pouring down my cheeks like little streams, tear after tear after tear, clear streaks forming. Morty noticed as I reached a hand up and wiped my eyes, and he ran a hand through his hair as if unsure what to do.

"Death was never supposed to be this hard, Lyra. But you never do things the easy way, do you?" he asked, meaning for it to be a joke. But I didn't laugh—couldn't laugh—but instead cried harder, wondering why death couldn't be easy for me. Wondering why it could be easy for everyone but me, and why I was the one stuck on that bumpy road.

"Lyra…"

And Morty was the only one who could see and speak to me, something I thought about all too often. When _had_ he become most important thing in the world to me? Because he clearly made existence far easier for me. Because he clearly was the reason I could keep wandering this plane without hating it _all_ the time. Because he clearly cared, even if I doubted it sometimes, even if I got whiplash from him.

When my lips met his, I hadn't even realized that I had been moving closer. The second they touched, I jumped away, covering my mouth in surprise and turning away so I couldn't see his face. I wasn't sure I wanted to see the disgust that I imagined to be on his face.

"That was an accident. I am _so_ sorry."

I ran back into the building, heading back to my funeral where Morty couldn't talk to me, hoping that seeing the people who actually loved me would wash away that horrifying moment.

* * *

Morty didn't say anything about my slip. He never got a chance to. After the funeral ended and everyone parted ways, my mom and Morty walked back home together. Comforting her took up all of his time, and he couldn't even look away from her for a moment. I was no longer solid, but I pretended to hold my mother's hand to make myself feel better.

I couldn't help but be thankful that there had been food at the memorial service, since I didn't think my mother was in a state to cook, and if Morty had to cook, that meant that he would be left alone for more than five seconds to do it. So, when Morty and my mom got back to my house, my mother slumped on the couch and went through a box of tissues as Morty handed them to her.

I noted that Morty was no longer saying good things about me. He just chose not to say anything.

My mother got up to use the bathroom, and I was tempted to leave the room with her, perhaps to hide away in my room. But when I started slinking away, Morty cleared his throat. My mother looked back at him, and he just smiled and said it was nothing; she continued on her way, but I was stuck with him.

"I really am sorry. It was an accident."

"You've had a rough day. I don't blame you for anything, and I don't expect you to apologize for anything," he said in a quiet voice, and I frowned, noticing that he didn't exactly say that he liked or disliked it. "I can't even begin to imagine what this whole day was like for you. And I'm sorry if I was wrong in my assumptions today and… everything else."

I was about to respond when there was a knock on the front door. Morty didn't even falter, but I was surprised to hear this. He just casually stood up, walking over to the door and standing there for a moment.

"I don't think my mom will mind if you open it. This is my house, too. I give you permission to open the door," I said, and he looked at me with a skeptical look. Well, it wasn't _my_ house, since I didn't pay for it, but close enough, right?

"Is that the door?" my mom asked, coming back into the room. She hurried over, and Morty stepped aside as she opened the door.

Two policemen, clad in full blue uniforms, looking solemnly at her, nodding and taking off their hats. "I am sorry to disturb you again, ma'am," one of the men said in a husky voice to match his physique, and I raised an eyebrow. _Again_?

"Your daughter's Pokémon were found in a warehouse today, ma'am," the other policeman said, this one taller and squeakier than the other. I gasped, putting a hand to my mouth and reaching my other one to grab Morty's arm. My hand slipped through him, though I was immediately glad it had. "Along with her Pokédex, PokéGear, and bag."

I was growing more and more excited with every word. My Pokémon were found! And all of the rest of the stuff that I had lost when I drowned. This was great!

"Well, that's wonderful, thank you for telling me." My mom didn't sound as enthused as I would have, but I shrugged. She had an excuse.

"Not as wonderful as you would think," the husky man disagreed, and I raised an eyebrow—as did my mother and Morty, though this was visible to the policemen. "The police force in Olivine found them during a raid. A Pokémon Collector has been wanted for quite a few months, and this warehouse was where he stored his collections."

The other policeman nodded. "He is notorious for stealing rare and strong Pokémon from Trainers across the region. The police have no idea who he is, just that he steals Pokémon, but when they found his warehouse, they raided it. Lyra's Pokémon—and all of her belongings—were in that warehouse. We suspect that this collector stole her Pokémon."

Morty cleared his throat. "But Lyra was riding her Pokémon when she was on her way to the Whirl Islands. How could he have stolen it—and her other Pokémon?"

The policemen looked at each other, as if trying to decide who would answer that question. I held my breath—though I didn't even need to breathe, this felt more natural in this situation. The silence was just about killing me again.

Finally, the husky policeman sighed. "We believe the Collector killed Lyra for her Pokémon. We're beginning a murder investigation."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Gasp! Morty was right? A bazillion chapters ago? Did anyone actually see this coming, or did you completely disregard Morty's thoughts on the situation? I'm thinking that most of you saw the foreshadowing, but… who knows? It was a while ago that he mentioned this.

So… I don't think I'll get to update again before I leave for college. I might. But probably not. And while updates WILL become slower (do not expect any updates until August 30th at least), I will try to update as soon as I can whenever I can. :)

And for your random fact of the day, for those of you who haven't heard, I have learned the Thriller dance! Whoo-hoo!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

It was strange being back in Ecruteak City after such a confusing day in my hometown. Though, I had to admit, I was happy to get out of there. As nostalgic as I felt now, and as sad as I was to leave my friends and family alone again, I needed to get away. Because, right now, I had no idea what to do. I just knew I needed time to think.

_We believe the Collector killed Lyra for her Pokémon. We're beginning a murder investigation._

How odd it was to even think that I was killed. Yet Morty had been right all along, and while I didn't want to admit it, it did make sense. The Pokémon Collector knew my Pokémon were strong, tracked me down, somehow forced me off my Quagsire, stole my Quagsire once I was off it—ensuring that I would eventually drown—and collected my bag with the rest of my Pokémon. It seemed very complicated, but he had done a nice job. It actually seemed like an accident, especially when there was no sign of a struggle from me.

Morty was kind enough to not rub it in my face, however, that I was wrong and he was right. In fact, we hadn't really talked much since we returned to Ecruteak City. I had definitely messed up our friendly (and apparently nothing more than that) relationship, but I had other things to worry about now, anyway. Like finding the Pokémon Collector and getting my Pokémon back.

The police had taken my Pokémon to their station for holding, though I couldn't imagine what they were doing with them. It wasn't as if my Pokémon would just sit down and chat with the police about what happened to me. Regardless of this, they held my Pokémon, and I wanted to know if they were all safe in the station.

It had been a hard day for my poor mother. If it wasn't bad enough that she had to attend the funeral of her eighteen-year-old daughter who had supposedly drowned, the police had to go and tell her that this eighteen-year-old daughter of hers was actually murdered. On the same day. It was even harder to leave my mom after that, but I had to go. Morty needed to return to the Gym, and I had to go figure my death out.

Morty didn't watch television very much, apparently, since when we returned to Ecruteak, he had to go to the Pokémon Center to watch it. Turning it to the news—and interrupting some Pokémon competition that was being aired—we waited for a few minutes before he came across what he wanted. He made a tiny motion to the screen, and I saw that very familiar picture of myself pop up onto the screen.

"Police released new information today regarding this former Champion," a female voice started, and Morty leaned in closer to the screen. "Police that once said Champion Lyra, as she was commonly known, drowned are now saying that there was actually some foul play involved." The screen flashed to the news anchorwoman who had an overly solemn expression.

"Champion Lyra died last week from what police originally stated as drowning. However, police discovered a warehouse last night holding the six Pokémon that Champion Lyra had with her the day she drowned. This warehouse also housed many other rare Pokémon and is said to be owned by an unknown Pokémon Collector. Police say that this could be the man responsible for Champion Lyra's death."

The camera flashed to a man in uniform, though it wasn't either of the men we (well, my mom and Morty) had talked to. "Yeah, uh, we're suspecting some foul play here. The Pokémon Collector obviously knows about Champion Lyra's Pokémon. And for the girl to just drown in the middle of the sea while riding a Pokémon… It always seemed fishy to me. This Pokémon Collector is infamous for _stealing_ Pokémon, not collecting them."

Returning to the anchorwoman, she nodded at us through the screen. "We will update on this case when we receive more information." The woman continued reading off other stories, but Morty had already relinquished control on the television to the people who had been watching it before us before she could say anything else.

"I figured there would be something about you on the news," Morty told me as we left the Pokémon Center. "It wasn't sure if they told your mother everything she needed to know last night; she wasn't asking questions, and it wasn't my place to do so. The news is about as close as we'll get to knowing what's going on. It's not like we can infiltrate the police force."

Well, that was one idea. And if I wanted to go to the police station to find my Pokémon—and the woman on the news _did_ say that they had found all six of the Pokémon I had with me when I drowned—then infiltrating it at the same time didn't sound like a bad idea. It helped that I was invisible to everyone except Morty (I never once thought I would ever consider it helpful, but my invisibility was beginning to prove useful). And my intangibility was also going to be quite handy in this task.

Morty apparently did not like whatever face I was making. "Oh, no. Lyra, we are _not_ going to infiltrate the justice system!" He had never really seemed disappointed in me before, but I could hear it in his voice now. "Do you know how much trouble you could get in if they caught you? They could—"

"What, kill me?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "You may have forgotten, but I'm already dead. They couldn't do anything to me, even if they could catch me. Which they won't be able to. Because they can't see me. Besides, it's not like I'm asking you to help me. I can definitely do this one on my own. All I need you to do is use Abra to Teleport me to Olivine, since that is much faster than walking, and I will be out of your way."

Morty frowned, shaking his head. "I'm not going to let you do this. It's stupid, and you are definitely not a stupid girl. Doesn't this seem wrong to you?"

"Hey, I'm the girl who was murdered. Don't you think I have as much of a right to whatever files they have in that police station as the police do?" He didn't disagree with me, but he apparently didn't like that he couldn't. "If you're not going to help me get to Olivine, that's fine. I can still walk. It will take me longer to get there, but… it's not a problem."

Morty rubbed the back of his neck, obviously trying to think of some way to get me to change my mind. I didn't want to wait for it; I walked off, starting in the direction of Olivine. Slightly bothered that I didn't hear footsteps chasing after me, I had to force myself to not look back. Looking back was submitting, and I didn't want to do that.

But of course he wouldn't chase after me. It was all my fault for kissing him. I hadn't entirely meant to do that. How could I have done it on accident, though? I'd never had a boyfriend, never kissed anyone, and never fallen in love. And Morty was the only one I had with me now. Maybe I was just infatuated with the idea of him.

"Oh, come on, Lyra, wait up!" I heard his voice finally call after me, and I couldn't stop myself from feeling excited to hear him come up to me. "There's a huge flaw in your plan: you can't control your solidity. Even if you get to the police station, what if you're solid then? You'll just open the door and walk in nonchalantly? I think they'll notice a mysterious force opening the door."

I shrugged, the flaw meaning nothing to me. "Then I'll just wait until I'm not solid again. No big deal."

"But you can't control how long you're solid since you don't know _what_ controls it. You could be solid for days at that point, and by then it would be pointless to go inside. Why can't we just wait that few days for the news report to be updated with new information? The file won't have any more information than has already been released."

"No. That's wrong. Police always keep the leads quiet."

"You won't be able to pick it up and read it unless it's lying out on a table, anyway. The police will notice if you're solid and you pick it up, but you won't be able to read it unless you're solid and able to hold it. It's a lose-lose situation here." Morty paused, raising an eyebrow as I began to fume at him. He was right about that one. "And what do you plan to do with the information in the file?"

I didn't know, honestly. But I knew that the police file would have more information than what had been released regarding my death. If I could get a hold of that file, I could relay the information in it onto Morty, and he could then tell my mother the information. It was probably better to keep her a step ahead of whatever was on the news.

And maybe this was what I needed to move on to the Plane of the Dead. Maybe this was what I had been waiting for. Once I figured out where my Pokémon were, if they were okay, and what information the file held that could prove exactly what happened to me, I could move on. This seemed logical.

And… maybe I needed Morty's help again.

"You want me to move on, right?" I asked him, and he opened his mouth without saying anything. "You're the one who keeps saying that I'm not supposed to be on the Plane of the Living. Well, maybe I can move on if we infiltrate the system. But it's clear that I can't do it alone because of my problems with solidity. So… do you want to help me or don't you?"

He looked unsure. I knew it was a lot to ask of him—more than anything else I had asked of him so far, in fact. He could get in serious trouble if he was caught sneaking into the police station to steal a file on a big case—and especially where he was a well-known Gym Leader, his reputation would be completely ruined if he was found out.

But I was still hoping I was worth it.

"You kill me, Lyra," he said, rubbing the back of his neck again, and I smiled, knowing I was getting through. His choice of words was especially nice. "All right, all right, I'll help you do this. But there are a couple of quid pro quos: first, you need to figure out how to control your solidity. That is _key_ to making this successful. Second, I'll distract the police somehow while you get the file, but you cannot waste time."

I wanted to hug him so badly. But after my little mistake, I figured that wasn't the best choice in the world. "I wasn't planning on it. This is a fast operation. Get in and get out." The smile on my face grew larger. "Thank you so much. You've done so much for me, and I _know_ this is asking a lot of you. I promise that I will not let you get in trouble."

Morty just rolled his eyes at me. "I'm not worried about me. I'm a Gym Leader. I can use my leadership abilities to take control of that place."

"And I'm Champion-turned-ghost. I can use my… awesome ghost skills to get the file."

"In all seriousness, you _have_ to figure out what triggers your solid episodes before you even get to Olivine. Your teleportation always takes a really long time, and I'm thinking that if you figure it out beforehand, the trip maybe easier for you."

That sounded like a great plan. My trip home wasn't any better than my trip to New Bark Town. The same drowning feeling had taken over, and while I had just allowed myself to be enveloped by the darkness this time, it wasn't any more of a pleasant experience than it was the previous time. Teleportation was quite terrible for ghosts, and if I could make it easier, I would jump at the chance.

"All right," I agreed, reaching out and noticing that my hand went straight through his stomach. "How am I supposed to find a trend? What if it's just completely random? Where do I even begin?"

Morty pursed his lips. "At the beginning. Look back at all of your moments of solidity, find the common factor, and get it to work. It might be completely random, but it seems to me that your solidity has been much more frequent. Something is changing in you which must mean that you can control it."

I nodded, looking back at my death and hoping it would provide some sort of clue.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Weird. Something similar to the beginning of this chapter happened in "Crushed" (watching the news about Lyra). I guess when angsty things happen, the world wants to know! I actually think this news report was better than my other one. I dunno. I think my writing has been fluctuating improvement-wise, but I think this particular part was more realistic.

But, um, college is cool. I'm about halfway done with chapter nine, so I have almost abandoned the staying a chapter ahead thing. I'll try to get back to that when I have more time. But it's been awhile since I updated, so I wanted to get this chapter out there.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

"I've got it!"

I was running towards Morty, who was in the middle of a battle with some random Trainer, waving my hands at him like a maniac. Because there was nothing more exciting than figuring something out after _literally_ sitting around in a small office for three hours and twenty-six minutes trying to think of that something. I felt liberated, intelligent, and, above all else, like a total loser for not being able to figure it out beforehand. But I was excited about it.

Morty looked at me for a split second, a smile briefly appearing on his face. That split second he lost focus, his Gengar was attacked, knocked back with an astounding amount of power. I stared at the girl challenging him—the one from before with Lyle… Chelsea. Morty returned his focus to the battle, and with a tiny whisper as I reached his side, he asked, "Can you hold on five seconds?"

One, two, three, four, five. I felt immature for counting in my head, when it would clearly be longer than five seconds, but I really wanted to tell him what I discovered about myself. Still, though pouting the whole time, I stood by his side and watch him battle Chelsea, completely kicking her butt. I really wanted to rub it in her face, but she wouldn't be able to see me doing it, anyway.

The match was over within a few minutes, however. Chelsea came over to Morty, holding out her hand for him to shake. With a smile, Morty did so, just as he had done with me. Luckily, he wasn't handing out a badge today to Chelsea, and for that I was grateful. Though my reasons for disliking her were completely unjust, I didn't like her fawning over Morty. Because she was definitely holding his hand too long now.

"Hey, come on! I figured it out! Don't you care?" I demanded, trying to push Morty along so that he would get rid of this Chelsea girl. But they were mid-conversation, discussing their match like they were best buddies. I narrowed my eyes, feeling anger rising up within me. I tugged on his arm, solid again, and he nearly fell.

"Oh my gosh, are you all right?" Chelsea asked, finally dropping his hand, but only to touch his arm instead. If my eyes narrowed anymore, they would be closed, but I was feeling an intense amount of hate towards the girl.

Morty nodded, sliding far enough away from Chelsea—and closer to me—that she couldn't reach him anymore. "I'm fine. I just put weight down on my bad foot. I hurt it yesterday, and I keep forgetting that I did. Nothing major or anything." He smiled for reassurance, backing away as she took another step forward. "I have to go, now. I have an appointment with the doctor today."

"Oh… Okay. I hope your foot gets better." She smiled at him, a cute little smile, and I seriously felt like pushing her away. But Morty just nodded, and she waved as he started walking away. It actually sucked that she lost to him; now, she would just come back tomorrow and the day after and the day after that until she won. And I would really want to push her away.

I didn't say anything about her. It wasn't my place to. But I knew that Morty could tell how annoyed I was that he had picked her over me, not pushing off his battle with her for my more important discovery. Still, that was selfish of me again. I wouldn't have walked up to Lance, for example, and expected him to stop mid-battle just to talk to me.

Maybe the circumstances were a little different.

"Emotion," I said when Morty closed the door to his office. He raised an eyebrow, his attention finally all on me, and I smiled. "You know… happiness, sadness, anger, joy, jealousy… whatever else there is. That's what makes me become solid. Actually, it's more like _passion_. Like when I'm _really_ happy or _really_ angry. Just… passion."

Morty nodded, but he didn't seem to agree with me one-hundred percent yet. "That makes sense, I guess. Any sort of passionate emotion makes you solid… So, basically, the change between you being solid or not is entirely psychophysiological. If you can make yourself really happy or angry for long enough, you'll be solid." He paused. "That's why you were solid for so long at your house. You had been crying—thus, you were very upset—so you were solid that whole time. It makes a lot of sense, Lyra."

I smiled, proud of myself for figuring it out. Thinking about that time at my house had actually been how I figured it out. I had been solid longer there than anywhere else, so I looked at the possible reasons. And my passion—happiness, sadness—had clearly been the cause of _every _one of the times I had been solid.

"Come on, let's go to Olivine. You still have Lyle's Abra, right?"

Morty nodded, pulling out the Poké Ball with the Abra in it. Sending it out, Morty reached a hand out to me. I was just about to grasp his hand, unbelievably excited to do so, when there was a knock at the door, and Morty dropped his arm. I narrowed my eyes, thinking that it was probably just Chelsea back to flirt with Morty.

I was surprised to hear Lyle's voice, instead, calling out to Morty through the door, "Leader Morty, are you in there, sir?" He continued to knock, and I raised an eyebrow as the knock continued with more urgency. "Sir, I need my Abra back now."

Oh. Hell no. No way in hell was Lyle here to take his Abra back. The only reason he wanted it back was because Morty was using it. He couldn't even use his Abra in a Ghost-type Gym! Who the hell did he think he was? Yet the knocking continued, and I stared at the door as it vibrated against the frame. It seemed to me that Lyle would knock down the door to get the Abra back.

"I know you're in there! I need my Abra back! I heard you talking to that dead girl, Lyra, again early today! She's not there, Morty, and she's not coming back. So, just give me my Abra back!" Lyle continued to call, and I clenched my fist, gritting my teeth. "You're going crazy, Morty! Lyra isn't there anymore! You're crazy!"

"Shut up, you bastard!" I screamed, not that Lyle could hear me. Morty raised his eyebrows in surprise at my choice of words, but he didn't waste any time. Grabbing my hand, he told Abra where to send up, and with a flash of light, we vanished, hearing Lyle scream for his Abra one last time.

This teleportation was much better than my other two. Morty, the Abra, and I all landed in front of the Olivine Pokémon Center without any delay—and without that trip to wherever I had been going. I didn't have to drown again, maybe because I was solid, and for that I was thankful. And I was still clutching Morty's hand when we stopped.

"I'm sorry that I freaked out back there, but he has no right to call you crazy when he's working for you, Morty," I said, turning to him with the intention of apologizing but realizing that I was going about it wrong. I paused, sighing. "I want to tell everyone that I'm real for you, but… they can't hear me. I'm sorry about this."

Morty just smiled at me, putting his other hand on top of our intertwined ones and patting mine gently. "Trust me, I don't care what Lyle thinks of me. I know that I'm not crazy, and my opinion is the only one that matters." He dropped both of his hands as I became intangible again. "And your opinion, of course."

I laughed quietly. "I'm so flattered that you actually care what I think." Then, my face dropping as I became serious again, I looked over my shoulder for the police station. "Do you know where the station is? Are you ready to do this? No, are you _sure_ you want to do this? You can still say no and go back to the Gym."

"And deal with Lyle?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't think so. The police station should be this way…"

He pointed off to the side, and we began walking. I certainly didn't want to get Morty in trouble, so I was hoping that this whole thing would go smoothly. But as we approached the police station, police cruisers and motorcycles all in the parking lot, I started to get nervous, worried that something would go horrible wrong.

We entered the building, but now I was shaking, so horribly nervous. Morty looked over at me, seeing me shaking, and reached for my hand, only to find me solid. In a low voice, he whispered, "You have to calm down. You need to go through that door over there." He nodded his head towards the door, which I saw was closed. "You can't do that if you're solid."

"Right." I covered my face with my hands, rubbing my eyes and patting my cheeks, trying to settle myself down. When my hand finally slid through his, he continued towards the desk in the main lobby of the station. I really hoped he had a plan that would last long enough for me to get the file and get out.

The police officer at the desk looked at Morty as he approached, raising an eyebrow. "Can I help you, sir?"

Morty put on a solemn face, glancing quickly at me before returning his eyes on the officer. "Yes, actually. I was wondering if you had seen a… Raticate… around anywhere? I can't find mine."

"Aren't you Leader Morty of Ecruteak City? And don't you train Ghost Pokémon? Why would you have a Raticate?" the police officer asked, and I winced. The police officers here in Olivine were really something! But Morty seemed to have this guy distracted, anyway, so I walked over to the door as Morty started to explain himself. Moving right through it, I entered the back hallway. Now, I would just have to find my file.

I didn't have to look long. After walking down the hallway for just a few seconds, I came upon a room with multiple file cabinets in it. I slid through that door, as well, walking into the dark room. All of the file cabinets were closed, so I prayed that they weren't locked. I didn't have the key to the file cabinets.

I didn't know what to think about to make me solid. But after Chelsea popped into my head, I found myself getting angrier and angrier at her, frustrated that she had been hanging all over Morty. And then I thought of Lyle, pissed that he had called Morty crazy when he didn't even know what was happening.

Tugging on the file cabinet handles with my solid hands, I found every single drawer locked. "Come on!" I yelled, tugging on them again and again, convinced that if I pulled hard enough that they would open. But they didn't. I tried the handle to open the door to the room I was in, only to find that it was locked, as well.

I had just trapped myself in the police station. Because I was too upset now to foresee my calming down any time soon. I kicked the file cabinets as hard as I could, begging them to open, but nothing was happening.

I really hoped that Morty had a long story to tell. It took me a few minutes to calm myself down, but when I finally slid back through the doors to get to the main lobby, Morty was still there chatting away with the police officer. He glanced over at me, and I yelled, "Keys! I need keys!", thankful that no one else could hear me.

"Can you give me any names?" the officer was asking him, and Morty turned back.

"Uh…" Morty scratched the back of his head, and I shouted at him again. I walked over to him, trying to look on top of the officer's desk to see if the keys were anywhere. There they were; sitting right on top of a pile of papers, a ring of keys most likely held the one I was looking for. "I don't know. But the Pokémon Collector probably has it."

"Keep talking to him. Distract him. I need to grab those keys," I instructed him, immediately thinking of Lyle and Chelsea again. I put my hand on the desk, finding myself solid, and walked to the other side to slide the keys off as subtly as I could.

"Yes, we've established that you think your Raticate is in there. But the Pokémon that we freed from the warehouse did not include a Raticate. Are you sure that your friend Lyra had your Pokémon when she was going to the Whirl Islands?" the officer asked as I began sliding the keys off the desk. They jingled a little, and I stopped moving them. The officer didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, she definitely had it with her. I just went to her funeral the other day, and no one said anything there about having it. So, she clearly didn't give it to anyone else. I'm just worried that it's at the bottom of the sea, now." I pulled the keys closer to me again, rolling my eyes. I was so glad that Morty sounded so concerned about _me_. He wasn't very good at this.

Finally, I pulled them off the edge of the table into my waiting hand. Of course, I was totally screwed now, seeing as the door was closed to the hallway. I couldn't bring the keys with me if I wasn't solid.

Great. I should have thought of that before.

"Look, buddy, we don't have your Raticate. You can come look in the back at the Pokémon we found, but I can assure you that there isn't a Raticate there."

Morty pounded a hand on the desk. "Yes!" He was practically screaming at the poor guy. "Yes, yes… uh, yes, I would love to go take a look."

I dropped the keys back on the desk just as the officer reached for them. Then, backing away from the desk, the officer waggled a finger at Morty. The three of us—unknowingly to the police officer—walked down that hallway into a small chamber of cells. It looked more like a pound than anything else, but as soon as I saw my Pokémon, I was just glad they were safe.

"Oh my…" I walked forward, falling to the ground in front of the cell that held my Pokémon as Morty and the officer looked around the cells for his "Raticate". "Can you guys see me? Can you hear me?"

They definitely sensed something. They all pushed their way to the front of the cell, sticking their noses through the bars and sniffing. I felt hot tears pour down my face, and I reached out, petting my Quagsire.

"I know you tried to find me… Oh my gosh, I know you tried to find me…"

"Nope, my Raticate isn't here," Morty announced loudly, but I was too busy petting my Pokémon to even turn around. But hearing something _clang_ against the ground, I looked back, seeing the keys right beside me, Morty's open hand indicating that he had something to do with it. "I guess I'll go look somewhere else."

The officer didn't even notice that he was now missing his keys. He just nodded, showing Morty the way out and leaving me with my Pokémon.

"All right. I love you guys, and I'll try to come back soon. But I'm on a mission. Wish me luck."

And a chorus of roars and cries echoed behind me as I left the room, heading away to the file cabinets to solve my own case.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I don't really have much to say. For some reason, I'm not feeling particularly talkative today. Haha, it's been a long boring day.

Can I just say it's amazing how many people procrastinate in college? I do my homework as soon as it's assigned. My friends? "Oh, I did this thirty minutes before class started." Nice, guys. Nice.

Whoo-hoo, back to the chapter ahead, by the way! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

I hurried to the room with all the files, tears streaming down my face the whole while. It was hard to leave my Pokémon when they were so real, so tangible. Their existence was no longer a mystery, and now that I knew that they were all okay, I didn't want to leave them. Even knowing that all they could do was feel and sense me, I wanted to bring them with me, free them from their prison.

I would give them to Morty if I had to, just so I could be with them. He wouldn't have to take care of them now that I could theoretically become solid at will. I just wanted to make sure they got to a decent place; I never wanted them to be locked away like stray dogs. This was unfair for them, and they needed to leave.

But now, I needed to focus on getting those files. I could figure out a plan to free my Pokémon afterwards, when my attention could be completely on them. Unlocking the doors to the room with the files, I walked in, making sure that no one noticed the door open and close on its own. Then, figuring it was better to work with the lights off, I flipped through the keys, looking for one to fit the file cabinets.

Even with the lights off, it didn't take long to find the right key. It was the only one small enough to fit into the file cabinet locks, and, within seconds, I had the drawer opened. Glancing around to make sure that no one could see what I was doing—and finding myself perfectly alone—I began looking through the files until I came across my name.

I pulled the file out, feeling the weight of it. Though I was curious to look through it now, I knew that now was not the time, and I set it down on top of the file cabinet as I locked back up. Then, grabbing my file, I hurried out of the room.

This was the tricky part. I needed to somehow make it back to Morty—meaning through the hallway and through the main lobby—without anyone seeing me. Well, more specifically, seeing a file floating through the air since they couldn't see me, anyway.

Getting through the hallway was no problem, and luckily, Morty had left the door open enough for me to squeeze through without drawing attention to a door opening by itself. So, sidling my way past the door, careful not to bump it, I waved a hand at Morty to draw his attention, signaling that I needed him to really distract the officer.

This was my first mistake; as soon as Morty looked over at me, the officer did, too. He blinked a few times, clearly confused by the floating folder, but by the time I realized that he had seen the file, it was too late. He jumped up from the desk, trying to get over to me as fast as possible. I just sprinted for the door, scared to death of getting caught, the door seemingly flying open without anyone touching it.

"What the hell? Did you just see that, man?" the officer asked, running outside after me. I had hurried off to the side, completely disappearing from view, so the officer had stopped following. "The… file… that thing was floating. What the hell just happened?"

"I didn't see anything," Morty said in a pleasant voice. "It's been a long day, sir, and I have taken up too much of your time. You must be overwhelmed! I will contact you again in a week if I still cannot find my Raticate, as agreed. Thank you so much for all of your help. I suggest you get a good night's rest tonight."

"Uh… yeah…" The officer sounded so hesitant and so confused. I smiled, laughing quietly to myself. Seconds later, the file fell out of my hands and onto the ground. But Morty was there to pick it up before I could even blink. He swooped down, picking it up and examining the outside like it was something surreal.

"You got it," he said in a surprised tone.

I knew I should have been insulted by his lack of faith in me, but all I could do now was smile, despite my earlier feeling of loss with my Pokémon. But I _did_ get the file. And the fact that Morty so clearly thought this should have gone all wrong amused me. I took the file from his hands, solid once more. "Did you doubt me?"

"Not for a minute."

Then, just like he had swooped down to pick up my file, he swooped down and kissed me. Before I knew it, the file was back on the ground, completely tossed aside, and it was just the two of us. His hands cupping my cheeks; his lips moist on mine, tasting so sweet. My hands finding their way to his hair, fingers laced with his short blonde strands; my utter shock and happiness draining me of any other control.

Because he was the one who kissed me. It wasn't a mistake—he wasn't backing away from me, trying to escape. He was the one who kissed me.

Oh no. _He was the one who kissed me._

"Morty!" I tried to say, throwing a syllable out whenever I could. I pushed on his chest, pulling myself away, and even though he gave our lips a break, his hands still cradled my face. His solid, living hands on my ghostly dead cheeks.

Suddenly, this seemed so wrong.

"Morty—"

"When you kissed me before, that wasn't a mistake. You wanted to kiss me, didn't you?" he asked, and all I could do was nod. Because I had wanted to kiss him, hadn't I? "I acted all… nonchalant about it. Like I didn't care. But I _do_ care, Lyra. I'm… I'm in love with you. And I know it's crazy, and I know it's probably wrong, and I know that sometimes you're a pain in the butt and you do things that drive me crazy, but—"

_I'm in love with you_.

"Morty," I interrupted, pulling his hands off of my face, just holding them in my own hands. How could I go from so happy, so wonderfully happy, to so completely miserable? Especially after such a kind and beautiful man expressed his love for me. "This was never supposed to happen. I'm _dead_. You're _alive_. You're not supposed to be in love with a dead girl. You're supposed to be in love with someone you can actually be with."

"I can be with you!" he argued, looking at me with pitiful sad eyes. "I can be with you whenever you're solid, and now that you can control that, you can be solid all the time. It'll be just like you're alive. It practically is, anyway. You look alive to me."

"And I don't to everyone else!" I exclaimed, trying to drive that point into his head. I didn't know how to make it clearer that I was only a physical entity to him, when he so obviously already knew that. Hadn't he been the expert on death all along? The man telling me what I needed to do, where I needed to go. "To everyone else, I don't even exist. You can hold my hand and… and _kiss_ me all you want, but it will look very strange to everyone else."

Morty wasn't liking my argument, and I felt so horrible for bringing it up. "What if I could find a way to bring you back? What if I could get you to become like the Ghost Pokémon? What if I could make it so your soul becomes a stable form on the Plane of the Living? What if I—"

"What if, what if, what _if_!" I stomped my foot, pushing Morty away. "You already told me once that you couldn't bring me back. That my return is completely impossible. So, I'm sorry, but you and I are both going to have to accept that I _will_ have to move on to the Plane of the Dead." I paused, taking a deep breath. "You can't love me, Morty. You just… can't. I don't want to hurt you when I go."

"I said you had to, but maybe you can stay. Maybe…"

He trailed off, shaking his head. I searched his eyes, knowing that I had hurt him, but I had ripped my own heart out and stomped on it, too. Morty really was the most important person to me right now, and I probably cared about him as much as he did about me. But this was so horribly wrong, and I didn't want to hurt him. I never wanted that.

"Just forget it, Morty. You can keep wishing and wishing. I have. But, like every time I've wished and prayed, nothing is going to happen. I'm never coming back. I'm never going to be yours, even if you love me. Because I can't go out on a date with you. I can't hold hands with you in public. You can't introduce me to anyone. We can't get married. We can't have kids. We can't grow old together. I would have to just sit there and watch."

He took a step away from me, stepping on the file on the ground but dismissing that he had done so. I could almost see the light bulb go off in his head, and he looked at me with such expectancy that I was a bit worried about whatever he was about to say.

And for good reason.

"What if I died for you? What if I became a ghost? If I had something to fulfill with my death, maybe I could stay behind and—"

"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa. You are _not_ going to freaking _kill_ yourself for me. That is so wrong on so many levels, and if you do that, I may have to have you exorcised." I narrowed my eyes at him, furious that he even suggested that. "First of all, even if you die without having your meaning fulfilled and you do come back as a ghost, being with me would be what you're waiting for. You'd automatically just move on. Then what, I'd be all alone? I don't think so. Second, if you didn't come back as a ghost, anyway, you just died for nothing. Third, you have a _life_ to live. So, go live it or I will just walk away right now."

"You'd walk away? You would just pick up that file and walk away now? And you would just find what you've been looking for and move on?" he asked, sounding surprised and dejected. I didn't want to hurt him, but if my options were to hurt him now and allow him to live life like he was meant to or hurt him later and take away all his life's prospective now, I would choose the former.

I took a deep breath, reaching down and picking up the file.

"Yes."

I began to walk away when he grabbed my wrist, pulling me back towards him, keeping one hand on my wrist and wrapping the other around my waist. I wanted to struggle, I wanted to pull away, and when he leaned down and kissed me again, I wanted to run. Because Morty needed someone living, not someone dead.

"You can just walk away… just like that. How can you do that? I can see it in your eyes... you feel the same way about me. So, how can you just leave?" he wondered, separating only enough to be able to look at me. "I want to hear you tell me that you don't care. If you can say it, then… fine. I'll let you alone. And if you can't say it, I'm going to find a way for us to be together. You got that, lightning girl?"

I tried to keep my face as straight as possible. But the fact that I was still holding onto that file was a dead giveaway that I _did_ care. Because the only way I could be solid was if I felt passionately about something. And right now, that something was Morty.

So, I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself as quickly as possible. And as the file slid out of my hand and Morty's hand went right through my wrist and my back, I took a step back and looked Morty straight in the eye.

"I care about your safety and your well-being. I care about your career. I care that you have been very kind to me. And I also care that you care about me. That means a lot to me. But I don't care about you in the way that you care about me."

_Bam_. A stake in the heart, just like that. I winced, seeing the look, and I had to turn around and close my eyes, knowing that the tears were coming.

How could this have happened to me? Why did I always have to be the one to hurt people? Why did I have to die? How could this whole situation flip around, leaving all of the responsibilities of a relationship that I couldn't have on me? Why did I have to be the one to say no? Why couldn't I have said yes?

"Wait… I'll let you walk away if you want to go. And I promise I'll drop the subject for the rest of time. But you don't _have_ to leave. We can solve your murder together."

He was begging, I was crying. What a sad couple we were.

"This changes things, you know. Things won't be normal, Morty," I said, and he nodded, understanding that things would be different from now on. We would both have to be in control of our feelings all the time, focusing more on that than on each other. Things had to change. There was no other option.

He picked up the file, opening to the first page.

"I know. Too little, too late, I suppose."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I enjoyed this chapter. Is that wrong of me? I mean… when you think about it, it's kind of like… the forbidden word that I won't say because it's too dang creepy that starts with a 'n' and ends with 'ecrophilia'. On a completely different level. But still.

Nah, it really is different. It's not as creepy. Has anyone ever read "A Rose for Emily"? It's a short story—very creepy. But it's a really good short story. You should all read it.

Well, this conversation was awkward. Bye, everyone. =P

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

"Got anything?"

Change was hard, and I wasn't loving it. Looking at Morty alone was difficult, knowing that the annoying feeling in my gut would pop up as soon as I did so. But it wasn't _really_ me who needed to control myself; it was Morty. Or, at least, that was what I was telling myself. Why did I need to change? Morty was the one who kissed me.

Then again, I had kissed him before. I was turning out to be a hypocrite… The feelings that I harbored within me needed to disappear, but every time I looked at Morty, they just came back stronger than ever. Yet I kept telling myself that it was Morty, not me. He was the one who needed to change his heart.

"Huh?"

I looked up, trying not to look him right in the eyes. I didn't have any problem controlling my solidity today. Every time I even thought about Morty, I got so worked up, so frustrated, that I could barely sit still. So, I had been flipping through the pages of my file for hours, trying to decipher whatever the police had recorded.

"I asked if you have anything." Morty repeated, hands in his pockets as he leaned against his desk. I dropped my eyes back down to the file, sighing. I was thankful that I was already dead, because my back would have been killing me if I was alive—sitting on the floor flipping through files wasn't particularly comfortable. And here Morty was, making me even more uncomfortable.

Sighing once again, I closed the file and handed it up to him, careful not to look him in the eyes. I didn't know if he noticed how much I was avoiding eye contact with him, but it felt awkward to me. I was used to be respectful, making eye contact when I was expected to, using eyes as signals to the subconscious. This made me feel lost and rude.

"Two things: they haven't begun interrogations, but they are planning on doing so soon," I started, and Morty flipped through the pages. "Second, the people they suspect are so completely wrong. They think Silver and Ethan might have something to do with it. I think I'd know if they were the ones to kill me. It doesn't make any sense. It looks to me like they're leaning towards saying that my murderer was someone I knew, but I think that's wrong. It's definitely someone I didn't know."

Morty pushed off from the desk and sat down on the ground next to me, crossing his legs so that they almost brushed mine. I hoped he didn't notice when I scooted away. "Why do you say that?" he asked. "I mean, why do you think it's someone you didn't know? What would their incentive be? Sure, getting your Pokémon, but…"

"Think about it." I finally looked at him, turning towards him to emphasize my statement, but I immediately regretted doing so. He was staring at me, and I suspected he had been for awhile, waiting for me to look. I dropped my gaze. "This guy is smart. No one except my close friends and colleagues knew my exact lineup. Silver knew, Ethan knew, Lance knew, Professor Elm knew, and Professor Oak knew. But because I was Champion, the guy knew I had strong Pokémon. He made this whole thing look like an accident, but incase it was ever found out that foul play was involved, he basically framed everybody else. Because why would some random Pokémon Collector, who might already have some of the species that I have, pick on me? It would be someone I knew who was familiar with the Pokémon in my party. Trust me, Professor Elm and Professor Oak could definitely be considered Pokémon collectors, and no one really knows anything about Silver or Ethan. Who's to say they didn't have a warehouse in Olivine for their pieces?"

Morty shook his head, handing the file back to me, fingers brushing mine for a second before I quickly pulled back. "None of it makes sense to me. I mean, I agree that it probably wasn't someone you knew—or knew well. There just has to be something else to this. I feel like there isn't a motive at all. There are plenty of rare Pokémon out there. Why did he target yours?"

I shrugged, taking the opportunity to scoot a little further away from him. "I don't know. Maybe he needed me out of the way. Maybe he wanted to be Champion. Maybe he just wanted my Pokémon. Until we figure out who it is, we won't really have the answer." I paused, looking through the file again. "Unless… maybe he really _did_ need me out of the way."

"That doesn't make any sense. You're an eighteen-year-old girl. Why would he possibly need someone so young out of the way? What threat did you pose to him—especially if he didn't even know you?" I shrugged again, and Morty finally looked away from me. "Murder makes sense. Everything else just doesn't. Let me look over the file for a bit. I'll get back to you if I figure anything out."

I nodded, standing up. I was about to reach for the doorknob when Morty's hand reached around and grabbed it for me. "It'd look a little funny if the door just randomly opened," he whispered, standing in the doorway for a moment before walking back into his office. I couldn't stop myself from smiling at this. "After you."

I walked through, half-expecting him to follow me out, but the door closed behind me. How long was I supposed to be out here? What was I supposed to do with myself while I was all alone—out here, not in there? I glanced around the gym, looking into the arena and seeing that Lyle was still there. How had Morty not fired him yet?

Well, that was one thing to do. Lyle needed to be put in his place, anyway. I would save Morty the effort and take care of things for him. Stepping out into the arena, watching carefully so I wouldn't be hit with any attacks, I headed to the far end towards Lyle. No one noticed my presence—even the Pokémon were too busy battling to notice me.

"Hey, Lyle," I whispered in his ear with a tiny smirk on my lips. No response. I tapped his shoulder, and he spun around, looking behind him for whoever did it. "Whoops." I poked his head now, ruffling his hair a little bit. His hand shot up to his head, and he turned around again. It was entertaining to witness, but I didn't want his Pokémon to get hurt. They were getting pummeled while waiting for orders. "Better get back to that battle."

"Classy," a voice behind me said, and I spun around now, surprised. Lyle turned with me to face Morty, and his eyes widened.

"Leader Morty, I didn't even notice you come over. Were you the one—?"

"No. It was just one of the ghosts fooling around. No big deal. But you should get back to the battle or you're going to lose. Keep your focus—that's key to winning. If you're even distracted for a second then you risk losing," Morty said, hands in his pockets again. He turned his eyes to me, a tiny grin on his face. "Go on, Lyle. Let's see you win."

He did win, much to my chagrin. I had no idea why Morty was so nice to everyone _all_ the time, especially when people like Lyle existed. Lyle was mean to Morty—just plain mean—and Morty was still here helping him win? I didn't understand it. I had high tolerance, but… Morty was on a whole other level.

"How do you do that?" I asked him when we got back to his office. He had given up rather quickly on looking through my file, but it was still sitting there on the floor. He raised an eyebrow, and I gestured to the now-closed door. "That. I mean, I always thought I was a nice person, but you were talking to Lyle—helping him win—like he never even insulted you. I would have fired him a really long time ago."

He just smiled at me, no big deal. "Ah, yes. Your classy poking and prodding." He laughed. "I don't know, Lyra. Life isn't about being mean or nice. There's a level of respect you have to hold everyone to. Respect shouldn't be earned. Whether people are mean or rude or whatever, respect should be given to everyone."

I couldn't stop myself from staring at his lips, feeling my stomach roll. This was going so horribly. I couldn't even focus when I was around Morty anymore. I was too busy trying to stop myself from feeling awkward that all I was doing was making myself feel awkward, and I just wanted to be alive. I really wanted that.

I didn't even know what Morty was talking about anymore. His lips were just moving and moving, and I was completely zoning him out. When he waved a hand in front of my face, I blinked, finding my focus again.

"Sorry, what?"

"This isn't working out very well." He seemed bothered, arms crossed across his chest. My heart was pounding like a fool in love—and wasn't I that? "The two of us. I mean, I know it's only been less than a day, but… I can't force myself to be normal around you when I'm with you all the time. I just can't do it. And I've noticed you avoiding eye contact with me—avoiding _me_ directly. I was just sitting there looking at that file, and you were gone for barely a minute. But I was afraid that you weren't coming back."

Well, damn. I was hoping Morty would never bring this up. "I said things were going to change, Morty. We did this to ourselves. It's not something that we chose, but it's something that we _need_ to control. I know it's hard because it's hard for me to even look at you… It is _so_ hard. But we need to just breathe and move on. It might take some time—and it will probably be awkward for awhile—but this can't work."

"I know, I know. And I promised I would help you until you moved on to the Plane of the Dead. I have no idea when that will be since you've been here so long already and haven't moved on. I'm assuming once we find out who murdered you that you'll move on. It seems like something major that you're waiting for. The faster we figure out who it is, the faster you'll leave."

He might as well have drove a stake right through my heart. _The faster I'll leave?_ So, he _did_ want me to go? I thought he had made it pretty clear yesterday that he wanted me around, but if I was hurting him that much, I would make things easier for him. He didn't need to wait until I vanished for me to leave.

"I can go now, you know," I said, dropping my gaze so I didn't have to look at him. "I offered yesterday. If this is too hard for you, I can go. I'll take the file… figure out who it is and be completely out of your hair."

"Lyra."

"Nah, it's all right." I bent down and scooped the file off the ground, making sure none of the pages fell out of it.

"Oh, come on. We can work around it, right? I said I'd help you. This conversation is looking too much like yesterday…" He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "We just need to… spend some time thinking about something else. The more we focus on the file, the less we think about each other. Focus, right? The only way you'll win for sure."

My heart and stomach were beating and flopping in unison now. I felt nervous, like I never had before, and my gaze had returned to his lips. This wasn't working. Focus? I could barely focus on his voice, let alone a real conversation about matters more serious than this. I couldn't take this.

No. I could.

But…

My head hurt.

Maybe… it wouldn't be so bad.

My head really hurt.

"Damn it, Morty, I hate you," I said, wrapping my arm holding the file around his neck and kissing him. I couldn't even stop myself… but I didn't want to this time. He was surprised, putting a hand around my waist, but he didn't pull away. He just kissed me back, pushing me towards his desk. I pushed some of the random objects on his desk out of the way, and he sat me up on top of it, one hand on my thigh, the other one somewhere in my hair.

"Lyra," Morty muttered, breaking away from me for just a moment.

"Don't," I breathed back, a tiny whisper between us.

Dead or alive. Why did it even matter to me? Sure, when I left, it would hurt Morty. But who said I needed to leave? Who said my case even needed to be solved if Morty really thought that was what would make me leave?

I tossed the file back on the floor, making a mental note to destroy it later.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Somehow, that doesn't seem like a smart idea to me. Just saying. ;)

Lyra should make up her mind! She's probably giving the poor boy whiplash. XD But that's all right, it's a really hard decision for her. And I hope you all understand that. It might seem very sudden and very… strange, I suppose, but to me it makes a lot of sense.

Finally… I am SO sorry about how long it took me to write chapter twelve and get this chapter up and going. I feel really bad about it. Feel free to yell at me. (I would use school and life as an excuse, but I've been watching so much Inazuma Eleven that it's really not an excuse at all.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

We didn't get too carried away. I laid down some rules if we were going to do this—even though I had gone way too far—because we needed to know the limitations. I was more concerned for Morty than I was for myself, but that didn't mean I could ignore the rules. This was a relationship. Couples were supposed to work together, right?

If you could even call us a couple. Which, honestly, I wouldn't. Couple wasn't the right word. Dating wasn't the right word. Nothing suited us, except maybe friends with benefits. But I laid the rules down all the same, since they still applied—and they would never apply to anyone else. I was pretty sure we were the only ghost girl and human "together" in the world.

First, there would be no getting carried away. I didn't even want to think about that. Just saying. I would leave it at that.

Second, Morty needed to be okay with the possibility of me leaving, though at this point, I really hoped I wouldn't for a while. But there were already several problems with me wanting to stick around, and I didn't know what to do about them. I didn't necessary want to think about them, but they kept popping into my head.

I was already several years younger than Morty. He was in his mid-twenties, while I had died at the young, but ripe, age of eighteen. And being dead, it didn't seem likely that I was going to age along with him. So, his already being older than me was a problem. He would keep aging and keep aging, and I would forever stay eighteen. There would reach a point where it would be impossible for us to be together—more impossible than it already was—and I wasn't sure I wanted to even make it to that point.

Furthermore, I didn't necessarily have control over whether I stayed or went, and as much as I wanted to keep pushing that thought aside—assuming that so long as I didn't solve my death—someone was going to eventually figure it out. My soul would be laid to rest, and I would move on to the Plane of the Dead whether I wanted to or not. As often as I told myself that I had the reins on my being, I honestly didn't.

It was like there were all these obstacles preventing Morty and I from being with each other. From one stand point, I was grateful that these obstacles were there; it wouldn't hurt so much when it was time to leave. But on the other hand, I wanted to be with Morty when I clearly wasn't able to do so. It would end terribly one way or the other: Morty would grow old without me, and I would be hurt; or I would leave this plane, and Morty would be hurt.

What could I say? I certainly had feelings for Morty, and he obviously had feelings for me. But so long as we were going to be doing this, there would be no emotional attachment on my side. Those feeling that I harbored would be pushed aside, never thought about, and he was just going to be someone I was "with", nothing more. So long as I had a clear boundary separating my heart from this whole situation, I was good.

Besides, I didn't even know what "love" was. Other than loving my friends and my family, I had never loved anyone before—those feelings were completely different than the feeling of being "in" love. I loved my mom, I loved Silver, and I loved Ethan. But I had never experienced a love that made my heart patter and my stomach churn.

What I felt now was just an infatuation, anyways. I had, while I was alive, several crushes on boys, but even that was different than love. I didn't know how love felt, but I understood from the stories that you would just _know_ when you were in love. And right now, I didn't know anything. I had never felt more helpless in my entire life.

It stung a little that I had died before I got a chance at experiencing love. I felt a bitter frustration just thinking about all of the things I had missed, and would miss, and even when I was with Morty, it pained me to even think about it. I would have no wedding, I would have no honeymoon, I would have no beautiful romance. All of the things that every teenager girl imagined about would never be mine, and I felt robbed.

I would sit every evening after Morty and I made our relationship more "official" (but, like I said, I wouldn't necessarily call it that) gazing at the file that held my information. While he went home and slept, I stayed behind in his office, never touching the file, but just watching it. I couldn't bring myself to destroy it. It was like my escape if I needed to disappear. And I had a feeling that I would need to someday.

Morty would need to move on from me. There was so much wrong with what we were—most literally, a ghost and a living person—and it wasn't like I could ask Morty to stop aging. Death was not going to be one of the options, and I wasn't about to ask him to give away all of his benefits of life just for me. I knew what it was like to be dead, and it wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world. It was too painful for everyone.

So, I needed that escape. This would be fun while it lasted, and I would have wanted to stay had I been alive, but there would come a point when Morty wouldn't want me anymore. He would be too old, too in need of his life, and I couldn't ask him to stop and wait. If he needed to leave without me, that was perfectly acceptable. I had the file there, and I could solve my case if I needed to. And hopefully the police would solve it, too.

It came to a point where I could see myself getting emotionally attached if I stuck around too long. It was entirely selfish of me to be doing what I was already doing to Morty, but at this point, it was safe for me. But as time elapsed, I could see my feelings for Morty growing ever stronger, and I would need to put that to an end.

I would slowly fade away. If Morty knew the end was coming, if he could see it in sight, maybe it would be easier on both of us. It would allow time for the two of us to be together, but it would also let the pain lessen. Morty would have time to separate himself from me, and I wouldn't have to be nearly so involved.

That was my plan, then. I would be with him, but I would leave soon.

It wasn't the same thing as toying with him. I had never felt the need to play around with someone's heart and being before, and I certainly didn't think I was doing it now. Morty understood what he was dealing with here—an eighteen-year-old dead girl who really enjoyed kissing him more than she probably should—and so he knew the end of the story. I wasn't being mean… selfish maybe, but not mean.

"Can we get back to my case?" I asked him while we were in his office one day. He had been busy lately with battles, and there was some festival coming up soon that he was planning for. I didn't try to bother him too much, but we needed to talk now. "I need to find out who killed me."

He glanced at the file on the floor near my feet, his eyes hiding something else beneath his blank expression. I couldn't tell if it was surprise or anger or some other emotion, but it was clearly directed at me. I wasn't sure he had expected me to go back to my file so quickly after we just decided to be "together".

"I thought…"

I hugged my knees to my chest, shaking my head and cutting him off. "I still want to know who did it, Morty. I mean, this doesn't change anything, does it?" Of course, it did. But I wanted to sound confident about my decision to say the least. "If I leave, I leave. If I don't, I don't. It doesn't make a difference. I still need to find out. It's like… saying you know a really funny joke and then not sharing it. People will want to know. Same thing here for me. I want to know."

Morty didn't look happy; I would no longer meet his gaze. He probably just didn't realize now that this was just going to make his life easier later. It was all my fault, anyway, for stepping into his life when he didn't even ask for me, so I was making up for it.

"What are we doing? Come on, Lyra." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want to have this debate every single day. I don't want to… _worry_ about us all the time. It's like… you _want_ to make things more complicated all the time. Can't you just live for the day instead of the future? I know I'm not really one to talk," he added when I raised an eyebrow, since he certainly _wasn't_ one to talk at all, "but you're making things difficult."

Normally, I would probably be upset that it seemed like he was laying all the blame on me. But I didn't mind too much, if only because I knew it was true. Still, the moment it all came out of his mouth, he looked like he regretted it. He bit his lip, averting his gaze to the file on the ground.

"I don't want to debate it all the time, either. But you accepted my terms, so you're going to have to deal with it, okay? I _will_ have to leave at some point. It's not really something you can just… tell me not to do." I hugged my knees even tighter. "We're kind of a broken pair, aren't we? But that's what makes us work for now."

He didn't push it any further. He just dropped his arms with a sigh and sat down on the ground beside me. "We didn't get very far the other day," he said, and I could practically _hear_ the silly grin in his speech. "How are we supposed to solve your case when there isn't very much information in this file?"

"It's all guessing. Plausible reasoning, if you will," I said, letting go of my legs and opening the file. "We're going to be like super detectives! Sherlock Holmes and… that guy that goes with him! Watson or something? Or Nancy Drew!" I snapped my fingers, having just figured everything out. "Okay. I'll be Nancy Drew, and you can be Sherlock Holmes."

He didn't look particularly amused. "So, we're going to play detective like we're little kids?" Morty raised an eyebrow now. "I hope you realize that this is far more dangerous than that. We can't just play detective and get away with it. We're dealing with a murderer here, not some 'who stole the cookie from the cookie jar' kind of thing."

I shrugged, pointing at my face. "I'm already dead. One down. So, that just means one less person to worry about, right? And if you're all nervous about it, then don't help out. I don't want you to get hurt or feel uncomfortable doing anything. Please, don't feel obligated on my behalf." I smiled, honestly meaning my words.

"This is getting repetitive, Lyra," Morty said, shaking his head. "You know my answer to that." He took the file and glanced through it before stopping on the page with the information on the Pokémon Collector. Setting it down in front of us, he tapped the page. "Let's hear it, Lyra. Let's hear this plausible reasoning."

"There was a reason he chose me. It wasn't because I was Champion, and it wasn't because I had rare Pokémon. It was because I stopped Team Rocket."

Morty looked surprised by this, but the expression vanished quickly. It made a lot of sense. It didn't seem like there was much of a connection, and Team Rocket certainly didn't seem like _murderers_ as much as they did crooks. But there had to be some rage over the fact that I had stopped their reformation, and it seemed to fit.

"How did you find this out?"

"Like I said, it's all about guessing. You can back up your information later. Scientific method, Morty! Didn't you ever go to school?" He narrowed his eyes, apparently not thrilled with my joking around, and I sighed. "It's simply a hypothesis. I don't have any proof to back it up, and other than intuitive messages, I don't know how right I am."

"Still, it's a start." He took a pad and a pen off his desk and started scribbling something down in his illegible penmanship. "Do you know if Team Rocket had a database of all of its members? It's probably shut down now, but the programming could possibly still be there. We could look at the list of its members and narrow down the search."

I shook my head. "I don't know. But," I said with a smile, "I think I can find out."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Howdy! Lyra is so conflicted! Oh well.

I freaking love the next chapter. Guest appearances! XD I have a feeling that many of you will be happy with the next chapter.

Eh, still not updating as fast as I want to, but this was a CRAZY week! Very stressful. But now it's the weekend. Yay!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

I didn't think I'd be seeing Silver again so soon after my funeral, but this seemed like a much happier reunion than the last one. Not that it was really a reunion at all, considering he could not see me, but the circumstances were not so morbid this time around. If Morty and I were going to find out if there was a Team Rocket database, Silver would be the go-to man since he would be the least likely to harm us.

Morty, however, wasn't particularly impressed with my plan. "Are you sure you want to go to him?" he questioned, and I rubbed the back of my neck. Who else were we going to go to if we didn't go to Silver? "It's not that I don't trust him. If you trust him, then I certainly do. But…" He shrugged, and all I could do was stare, unable to complete his thoughts. "Well, for some reason, I don't think he's going to trust _me_."

"Hey, don't worry about it. He saw you at the funeral, so he knows you. He'll trust you. If it's anything having to do with me, he'll be fine. I promise." I smiled at him, trying to be reassuring about the whole thing. It was true. If it had anything to do with me, Silver would definitely be more receptive to helping, even if it meant delving into his past a little more than he wanted to. I was sure that he had already considered the possibility of his father's organization having some relation to my death. Perhaps he could help us. Or Morty, rather, since he wouldn't know that I was there with him.

This was all going to work out fine. I felt fully confident that meeting with Silver was going to be a wonderful decision. Plus, I missed him. I hadn't really had a chance to really meet with Silver at the funeral, and even if he couldn't see me, I would still be near him, able to hear him speak. He was one of my best friends. How wrong was it that I missed him? How wrong was it that I wanted to be near him?

The most difficult part of the execution of this plan was finding him. Silver was never in one place—instead, he was in all places—so it made it very difficult to track him down. It had been years since we had met at the Elite Four to battle, so I doubted he would be there. The last time I had ever seen him before my death, he had been trying to find a job. Battling wasn't really an interest to him anymore.

But I hoped… that maybe my death would have triggered something within him. Maybe he wanted to battle again, if just to keep the idea of my present in his head. And this thinking led me to him, bringing us down into the depths of the Dragon's Den. There he was, but he wasn't training. He wasn't doing anything. He was just _sitting_.

My eyes welled up, and I tapped Morty's shoulder, nodding at Silver with a weak smile. "Be gentle with him. Don't ask questions that will offend him. Please." I couldn't understand why Silver was here if he wasn't training, so I assumed he was just thinking. He probably wasn't expecting interruptions, and suddenly, this seemed like a bad idea. "Um, Morty, maybe we should go. Maybe I'm wrong."

But Morty just shook his head, walking over to Silver without a word and falling to the ground beside him. I watched as Silver looked at Morty, his eyes wide, but somehow, this scene was a beautiful thing to me. Seeing Morty beside Silver like that… for some reason, I just couldn't get over it.

"I apologize for bothering you like this, Silver," Morty began, as Silver didn't look like he was in much of a state to say anything. "I'm sure you would prefer being alone right now. I just have a few questions to ask you, but if you want to talk… that's all right, as well."

Silver didn't say anything. He ran a hand through his hair instead, standing up and beginning to walk towards me. Well, not towards me since he clearly didn't see me standing in the way, but in my general direction. Morty leapt to his feet, following him quickly as I jumped out of the way, keeping pace with the boys.

"I don't want to talk to you." Silver narrowed his eyes, but he didn't look over at Morty. "I don't know what you're here about, but I don't care."

"I'm pretty sure you do care about what I have to say because it's about Lyra." This got Silver's attention; he froze, staring at Morty like he had said something blasphemous. I was taken aback by this reaction, and for a moment, I was sure that Silver was going to punch Morty for even mentioning my name.

"You're wrong. I don't care. I'm past that." Silver shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes still narrowed.

Morty looked disgusted now, and I now regretted ever coming here. Apparently this was a mistake. How wrong I had been to come! Yet, I understood exactly what was going on. It wasn't that Silver was "past that" at all. Quite the opposite. He was still horribly upset. As usual, his eyes were betraying him, telling me all the answers.

However, Morty wasn't seeing what I was seeing, and he looked visibly angry. "You don't just move past something like that, so I don't know what you're talking about. You can't just forget about someone after being their friend for years! You don't just forget! And that is clearly what you're trying to do. How will erasing her help you?"

"You don't even know what the hell you're talking about, so back off," Silver warned, and I tugged subtly on Morty's sleeve, pulling him closer to me. "I'm not trying to forget about her. I just don't want to think about her anymore. It…" He sighed, looking defeated. "It hurts too much. I don't want to talk about her when I just feel so much pain when I do. I'm not a child. I'm not going to keep my hand on the burner until someone comes and takes it off for me. I won't stand here screaming."

"No one is asking you to. But trying to move past this… it's a crazy thing, Silver. You need to accept it, yes. But you don't need to move past it. I highly doubt that Lyra would want you to stop thinking about her." He paused, and I nodded. "Which is why I'm here in the first place. Have you heard about Lyra's murder investigation?"

Silver winced. "Yes. But I don't have anything to do with it if that is what you're suggesting. I was her _friend_."

I couldn't help but smile at this. He didn't like to say it aloud, I had noticed, but the fact that he had called me his friend meant that he wouldn't stop thinking about me. If he could admit it now, when he couldn't before, I could infer that he only thought of me more now. I was deeply honored by this, despite the demeaning tone behind it directed at Morty.

"I'm not suggesting that at all." Morty just crossed his arms. "In fact, I need your help." Morty sighed, glancing over at me for just a moment before returning his gaze on Silver. "So… Well, how do I say this? I trust you because Lyra trusts you, so I'm going to tell you. I sort of stole the file with Lyra's information in it from the police station in Olivine City."

I inhaled sharply, tugging on Morty's sleeve again, this time a little less subtly (though, I didn't think Silver noticed, for he was just as surprised as I was). I wasn't expecting Morty to tell Silver all the details, especially the illegal ones like this.

"What?" Silver asked, clearly dumbfounded by this.

"I couldn't do anything else! When I heard that the murder investigation was going on, I knew that there was something else to this story. I had to find out what was going on for Lyra's sake. So, I went into the police station in Olivine and stole the file," Morty explained, and Silver furrowed his eyebrows, obviously questioning Morty's sanity at this point. "You're one of the suspects, Silver. They're going to come and question you, and more likely than not, they will find a way to charge you because you're the most suspicious person. Especially with the attitude you have right now."

"Suspect? Where are they getting that bullshit? I want to see that file!" Silver reached his hand out, and Morty took a step back. "Give it to me, man, I have a right to see it if I'm a suspect! How could they even… Damn it, how could they?"

"I don't have it with me. But I want to help clear your name and everyone else's. Because it's definitely someone Lyra didn't know—or at least not well. I'm thinking that it was someone from Team Rocket, and since you have a bit of a connection there—"

"Where did you hear that?" Silver interrupted, and my eyes widened. This was heading down a very dangerous path. "Where the hell did you hear that? I have no connection to that… disgusting organization. None. You got that?"

Morty held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. Lyra told me that your father—"

"Bullshit!" Silver looked beyond pissed at this point, and I bit my lip. "Lyra promised that she would never tell anyone as long as she lived, and I know she never broke that promise. Even if she did, she wouldn't have told _you_. You mean nothing to her, and she meant everything to me! She would have never broken that promise."

"She didn't break that promise, Silver, I swear to you." Morty looked at me, holding eye contact with me for far too long. "I'm going to tell him, Lyra. He's not going to listen to us if we don't tell him. And what harm will it do?"

I shook my head, but I knew that it was already too late. "Morty!"

Silver just looked confused, which, for once, I was thankful for. "Who the hell are you talking to? Arceus, you've gone nuts. Spent too much time in that Gym of yours?"

"No. I'm fine." Morty turned back to Silver, a somber look on his face. "Lyra is dead, Silver, but she isn't gone. She's standing right here next to me as a ghost. You can't see her, but I can. I can see her, hear her. And sometimes she is solid, and sometimes she's not. It all depends on how well she is controlling her emotions. Like right now, I bet if you reached out, you would be able to touch her. Try it."

But I backed away before Silver could reach a hand out. I was scared of how Silver would react, what he would do, where I would go. Morty shouldn't have told him. He shouldn't have said a word about me!

"Damn it, what is your problem? How dare you come here and make fun of me?" Silver snapped, not bothering to reach a hand out at all. He looked disgusted, annoyed, and finished. He began to walk away, shaking his head.

"Nice, Morty," I said, crossing my arms.

"Come on, turn around. She's here, I swear! I'm not making fun of you. I promise, I am not making fun of you at all. I've been seen as crazy because of Lyra—talking to no one, doing things that I wouldn't normally do. Just listen to me. She's here." Morty looked at me now, eyes pleading with me. "Lyra, please. Just… he's not going to listen, and you were the one who wanted to come here in the first place."

Silver _did_ turn back around. He stared at Morty, skeptical, but unafraid. And now that Morty had blown my cover, what other choice did I have?

I walked forward, touching Silver's hands hesitantly. Then, gripping them as hard as I could, I looked to his eyes for a reaction.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I don't know if any of you caught that analogy that Silver said? He says, "I'm not a child. I'm not going to keep my hand on the burner until someone comes and takes it off for me. I won't stand here screaming." Basically, when a little kid puts his/her hand on a hot stove burner, he/she will keep the hand there until someone comes and makes the kid take it off. He/she won't do it; he'll just stand there screaming, but he won't take his hand off the burner.

So, just in case you guys didn't catch that analogy. I felt like I needed to explain it because I thought it really explained how Silver was feeling about the whole thing.

Also, I definitely wanted to use more explicit language in this chapter. I really wanted to, despite my hatred of using swearing in writing (well… in life; I really don't like it). It would have been more appropriate to use strong language. I just… couldn't because I didn't want to put the mature filter on. So… you're stuck with less fitting language (there are a few moments where it's pretty hardcore, but… whatever). Hopefully it will provide a similar effect of emotions.

(And yay for fast update!)

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

The reaction was not what I expected; instead of looking surprised, thrilled even, Silver appeared horrified. He yanked himself away from me, forcing me to my hands and knees before him. Morty reached down and helped me up, pulling me back to my feet, but I was too focused on Silver to say anything. What was this look? Why did he seem so horrified when I was still around? Shouldn't this have been a beautiful reunion?

"You're horrible!" Silver yelled—no, screamed—at Morty, his face contorting as he spoke. "Don't you make fun of me over this! Over Lyra! How can you even use her memory like that, to make fun of someone? Damn it, to even _think_ that I believed you for one second! That Lyra could really be back! But I shouldn't have trusted a ghost-type Trainer… you can recall your Pokémon now. No need to make fun of me any longer."

"It's not a Pokémon, you moron, it's Lyra! I'm not making fun of you!" Morty retorted, and I shook my head, giving up. Morty shouldn't have said anything to begin with, and now that he had, this was just ruining everything. We were better off just getting out before things got worse; Silver could tell the police that Morty had taken the file, and I didn't want things to get that far. Leaving now and allowing Silver to calm down might prevent that.

Silver just scoffed, and I pulled on Morty's sleeve, trying to force him to leave. "Stop it, Lyra!" Morty yanked his arm away from me, and I gasped, stumbling once more. "I am not leaving until Silver gets it through his head that you're still here. We need his help if we're going to solve your case. I did _not_ come all the way here just to be insulted like this, and I will be getting his help." He walked closer to Silver, but the redheaded man stepped back, backing closer to the edge of the pier. "Get it through your head, I am not lying to you. I would _never_ dishonor Lyra in that way, and if you don't want to dishonor her, then believe me. _This is not a joke_."

Never before had I witnessed such passion from Morty—not even during our most intimate of moments. He was defending me with all that he had, insulted that Silver even thought that he was making fun of me, and for this, I was grateful. Yet I couldn't be entirely happy with how this was playing out. I never wanted to upset Silver, and I had specifically told Morty to avoid doing that at all costs. This had taken too many wrong turns, and I couldn't handle watching this for much longer.

Morty took another step towards Silver, and I saw my friend's heel reach the end of the pier. I unconsciously reached out as he started falling back towards the water, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him towards me. Had he been falling faster, I would have tumbled into the water with him, but I managed to keep him up on the pier, pulling him with as much force and power as I could towards me.

Glancing up at him, and brushing his long hair out of his face, barely brushing his cheek, I shook my head. This was disappointing. He wouldn't believe it was me; since when did ghosts exist? Ghost Pokémon, sure, but no one _really_ believed that human ghosts existed. All of those ghost stories… they were all just made up, fake. Like the boy who cried wolf, no one would believe in me now. Morty never should have thought Silver would listen. Not when he'd been lied to so often.

Yet, looking at Silver, I saw the face I had been looking for. Surprise lit up every aspect of his face, eyes widened with something different now—there was no longer any anger on his face, no bitterness, no disgust. Did he believe Morty? Did he believe I was there? What did this all mean? What did he think?

"Lyra?" he whispered, and I smiled, feeling so completely overwhelmed now. He believed in me! "Holy crap… Lyra!" He slapped his cheek, looking at Morty. "Oh my Arceus, what the hell? How come I can't see her? But… I mean, it _felt_ like her. Her skin was always so soft, and she touched my cheek… it was her. Holy crap… The first time she grabbed my hands… I don't know. I couldn't believe it. But she just pulled me back. Any old Pokémon wouldn't have done that, but Lyra would have."

He reached a hand out, and I laughed to myself as a tear fell down my cheek. He really believed! I put my hand in his, and his fingers curled around mine. "Lyra, I can't see you, and I don't think I can hear you. But…" He looked over at Morty again. "At the funeral, you said all that stuff about her. She was telling you to say that, wasn't she? Why didn't you just tell everyone that she is still around? Damn it, Lyra, why didn't you tell me?"

I sighed. "I couldn't, Silver…"

"She couldn't. You would have just had the exact same reaction there as here. Everyone would have gone nuts. I can see her, and I didn't even believe it when I first saw her. There is no possible way that we could have told everyone and have it had ended nicely. It would have been chaotic." Morty shook his head, clapping his hands together once. "Listen, I'm sorry about this. I didn't mean to even tell you, but it was the only way I could get you to listen to me."

"You wouldn't have told me, Lyra?" Silver's focus was directly on me; I was thinking that maybe Morty's words were going in one ear and out the other, but the fact that he had built off something Morty said threw me off. I didn't know what to do or say at this point since Silver couldn't hear me anyways, so I looked at Morty to help me.

"Hey, man, I'm sorry. But she didn't need the extra burden. Now that she needs your help, though—"

"Burden? I'm not a burden, I'm her friend!" Silver narrowed his eyes, tightening the grip on my hand. "I don't even know why you're here. I get it, you can see her. But how the hell did you find that out, anyways? Why would she have gone to you first when she could have gone to me? I don't know what the heck happened, but it should have been me all along. I should have been the one to see her."

"She's not just important to you; she's important to me, too! And I can't tell you why she picked me because, honestly, I have no idea. But I'm glad she did, and I wouldn't have it any other way now." Morty walked closer to me, grabbing my free hand and yanking me towards him. But Silver's grip on my hand was so tight that Morty didn't get very far.

"Hey, boys…" I piped in, smiling weakly.

"Let her go." Morty's voice was dark, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "You can't see her, anyway."

"Hello! Can you guys both let go?" I tried to speak up, though it didn't really make a difference at all. No one—or, I supposed, Morty—was listening to me right now. "I feel like I'm going to get ripped in two pieces in a minute here. So, if you don't mind, I would like to just—"

"No way. She obviously—"

"Obviously _nothing_. I'll have you know that she didn't want to tell you at all, even if she does need your help. She was pretty upset when I first started telling you that she was even here. So, how does that make you feel? Knowing that she wanted to leave when I started telling you? Knowing that she didn't want you to know?" Morty dropped my hand, but only so he could cross his arms, waiting for Silver to let go. "She wants you to let go, too. She says she doesn't want to be ripped in two."

Silver shook his head, but he let go of my hand, too. I stretched out my fingers, rubbing my palms together as I stared between the boys. "Yeah, so, Team Rocket. Want to get started on that before you both kill each other? I'm not entirely sure you'll come back as ghosts, so I don't want to be left all alone here!"

Morty gave me an amused look before uncrossing his arms. "Sorry." He held out a hand to Silver. "Let's start over, please, for Lyra's sake. She's getting quite flustered, and we need to start working on solving her case and getting your name cleared. I don't think we're going to get very far if we're always fighting."

Silver looked hesitant, but he shook Morty's hand, forming a truce that would hopefully last until we got the information we needed from him. I didn't want to make it sound like we were using Silver, but I had intended to get the information from him and skedaddle. There wouldn't be any bonding, no information shared on our part, and yet all of that had (sort of) happened. Maybe I had originally planned on using him, but I didn't want to make sound like that.

"Okay, thank you. I'm sure Lyra appreciates it." Morty looked over at me, and I smiled weakly, nodding. Sure, I appreciated it. But this was still not going anywhere. "Okay, so let me explain what is going on. There are three planes that the soul travels on, but the only two we're concerned about at the moment are the Plane of the Living and the Plane of the Dead. We, as living beings, are on the Plane of the Living. Lyra's soul is supposed to have moved on to the Plane of the Dead, yet her soul is stuck wandering here on the Plane of the Living. So, we need to get her to move on to the Plane of the Dead, where she's supposed to be."

"But if we get her to move on to the Plane of the Dead, she won't be here anymore. Why would we want to do that? Lyra belongs here with us. She was never supposed to die—she didn't _deserve_ to end her life short. Someone else did this to her! She should be able to stay here," Silver argued, but Morty shook his head.

"I know it's hard. Trust me, I know." Morty gave me a pained look, and I bit my lip, averting my gaze. How dare he throw that guilt trip at me now? It wasn't my fault that he was living and I was dead. I would have chose living over this, and I certainly would have chose to be with him forever if I could. But I couldn't. "But she can't stay here. This isn't the right plane for her. If she doesn't move on, everyone else around her will eventually die, and she'll be all alone. That isn't fair for her, either."

Silver clearly didn't like it, but I didn't either. How was there a way to like death at all? It was something that people didn't understand, and even if someone could wrap their head around it and figure out what it was all about, I didn't think they even got the right idea then. Death was never what I expected it to be.

"She can't stay here. So, we need your help in getting her out." Morty bumped my arm with his, and it was all I could do to keep my gaze focused on the ground. I couldn't make myself look at him. "Lyra was murdered, as we know, by a Collector in Olivine. We've ruled out that it was someone she knew, and we've ruled out that he did it because she was Champion or anything like that. We think—or Lyra thinks, at least—that it was because she stopped Team Rocket."

Silver crossed his arms. "Yeah, so what? I don't have any affiliation with that group. I've never had any affiliation with them. Just because my father was their leader doesn't mean that I know anything about them. They're disgusting, and if you're suggesting that I have information on who killed her, I don't. I don't know who could've done it."

"I'm thinking that there's a database with the record of the members. If we can pull up that database, we should be able to access something that gives a list of names and rank. I'm assuming that it's someone in a lower rank." Morty looked surprised by my guess, but I had reason. "An upper rank person would be bitter about my stopping Team Rocket, but that happened years ago. If they were planning something about me, then they would have carried it out a long time ago. Plus, I doubt they would have been as messy about it; in other words, they wouldn't have taken my Pokémon."

"Are you sure?" Morty asked, raising an eyebrow. He didn't think I was right, and I smiled at this, nodding. Silver just looked confused. "She says that she thinks a lower rank member killed her. Do you know if there is a database anywhere that has a list of the members and their ranks? If we can get into the system, we should be able to narrow down our search."

"Database?" Silver shook his head. "I have no idea. My father was pretty organized in his work, but I'm not sure he would leave something like that behind. However organized it is, it's still messy to have that available where people, like us, could hack into it."

Damn. That was a good point. There had to be something that would help narrow down the search. I didn't know what that would be exactly, but I was positive that there was something out there that was going to help us. But now I felt bad—and disappointed—that we had come found Silver. We had gotten nothing out of it, and Morty had told my secret.

Silver sighed, trying to think of something. "But you know… I think—"

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a voice asked, and I turned around, watching as a man in a dark blue police uniform stepped onto the pier, recalling a Pokémon back to its ball. Uh oh. "Gym Leader Morty and… oh, look. Just the man we were looking for." He pointed at Silver, and my eyes widened. I knew exactly what was happening here.

"You're under arrest for the murder of Champion Lyra."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Uh-oh. This isn't good. (But you know what is? Fast updates! :D)

If you didn't notice, I haven't mentioned how many chapters are left until the end for this fanfiction. This is for a few reasons. But the main reason I'll mention is because this is sort of like a murder mystery. If you know the end is coming, you know you're getting closer to figuring out who it is. So, I'm not telling you how many chapters until the end. :)

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

All of our jaws dropped. I didn't expect the police to come after Silver so soon, especially when their file of all of the suspects and information surrounding my case had recently gone missing. It didn't make any sense. Yes, they must have started gathering all that information back up, but it shouldn't have been ready yet. They shouldn't have been after Silver so soon. They didn't even have sufficient evidence to say it was him. _It didn't make any sense_.

There was something horribly wrong here.

The policeman pulled his hat tighter on his head, obscuring part of his face. Yet the man looked vaguely familiar to me, though I couldn't put my finger on it. It didn't look like one of the policeman that had visited my house, nor did it look like that policeman at the Olivine City police station. Where I had seen the man before, I didn't know. All I knew was that this wasn't déjà vu. I had definitely seen him somewhere.

"Please come with me," the policeman said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his belt. I needed to do something; there was something fishy about this situation. I wasn't one to judge, nor was I one to disobey authority, but I didn't trust this policeman. How could they have already decided that Silver was the one who killed me? Besides, I knew that he hadn't been the one to do it. Silver would never have done that.

I looked around, trying to decide what to do as Silver walked towards the policeman with his arms out and head down. Before I could even think, I reached out and yanked Silver's arm, pulling him to the side. The policeman jumped, clearly surprised by Silver's sudden movement, but I didn't care how suspicious it looked. For all the policeman knew, Silver could have stepped incorrectly on a rock.

"What the—" Silver started, and I looked at Morty, who was also given me a confused look. Desperate times called for desperate measures, as they said, and I was not about to let Silver get arrested for something he didn't do, especially when these circumstances were so wrong. There had to be something I could do to fix this, or maybe there was something that I could do to delay the arresting until later to buy us time.

Then, as though a light bulb had just turned on in my head, I knew. "Don't go with him!" I shouted, though Silver couldn't hear me. Morty could translate. "There's something wrong with this officer. He isn't who he says he is." Morty just raised an eyebrow, not catching on. "I know this might sound absolutely insane, but you need to trust me. I swear, this policeman isn't a policeman at all. Ask for his badge. A policeman has to show it when they're asked."

Morty nodded, turning to the officer and clipping a Poké Ball off of his belt. "Hold on just a minute!" he yelled as the policeman walked closer to Silver, holding the handcuffs so tightly that his knuckles were becoming white. "Officer, can we please see your badge? Or is there something you need to tell us?"

The policeman froze in his tracks, dropping his arms to his sides. I couldn't see his eyes, but I imagined them to be narrowed into slits. "What are you talking about? I don't have to tell you anything. This young man right here is under arrest for the murder of Champion Lyra. What more do I need to say? If you put up a fight, Leader Morty, then I will have to send you to prison, as well. Do not argue with me." A small smirk formed on his lips, the only thing visible on his face. "I don't want to have to do anything rash."

"Oh my…" I clenched my teeth, curling my hands into fists. He was _not_ going to hurt my friends. It just wasn't going to happen; anyone who threatened them was not going to get away with it. "Morty, you and Silver should run. I can hold him off—he doesn't know I'm here. If I just mess with him a little bit like I did with Lyle, then I can—"

I broke off, eyes widening with realization. _Lyle_. Was he the culprit all along? How could I have been so foolish not to have realized it? Lyle was the one who killed me, and maybe that had inadvertently drawn me to Ecruteak and Morty. Because Lyle worked at the Ecruteak Gym, where Morty was the Leader… it all made sense. It definitely explained why Lyle was so worked up about Morty's apparent "obsession" with me. He had killed me. He was that member of Team Rocket who was seeking revenge.

"Morty! Morty, this is the man who killed me! It's Lyle!" I pointed a finger at the man, and Morty furrowed his eyebrows. Other than that, there was barely a reaction. He didn't believe me. He didn't think it was Lyle. And yet, how could it not be? Why would Lyle care so much about thinking Morty was still talking to me—someone who was supposed to have been eliminated—if he didn't have connection to the murder?

"No. No, it's not him. It doesn't sound anything like him." Oh… yeah. "And this guy has too big a frame," he whispered back, and without another word, he walked closer to the officer. Just as he tried to whack the hat off of the policeman's head, the officer struck back, getting Morty right in the gut. I cried out as Morty sunk to the ground, holding his stomach. I sprinted over to him, collapsing onto the ground beside him. Even Silver started to move over to Morty, but the officer held out an arm.

"Oh my Arceus, Morty! Are you okay?" I felt a wave of relief as he nodded, but I couldn't stop myself from giving a dark look—however invisible it was—to the officer. He definitely wasn't one of the good guys.

There was no way I was going to take this any longer. I didn't trust this man, and even if he was an officer—which I knew for a fact now that he was not—he was in the wrong. This was not all right with me.

Getting to my feet, I curled my hands into fists, approaching the man. If this really was the man who killed me, Lyle or not, he was going to pay. First, for hurting my Quagsire. Second, for stealing my Pokémon. Third, for ending my life before I wanted it to end. Fourth, for running away like a coward. Fifth, for coming here and pretending to be an officer. Sixth, for hurting Morty. And seventh, for thinking he could get away with doing this.

I didn't know why he was here if he was the one who killed me. This was awfully dangerous for him to do. Yet I knew that by pretending to be a policeman, he was just being a coward again. If his plan was to do something to Silver, to make sure he was the one arrested, then he had another thing coming. It wouldn't end with him getting his way again.

"You are going to pay for what you've done," I said, walking towards the man. I wasn't entirely sure, at that moment, what I was going to do. What could I do when I didn't have any Pokémon to challenge him with? And all I could do was pick on him, really, considering he was much bigger than I was. Being invisible had its perks, but being small did not. "You cannot see the consequences of your actions, can you? Me?"

"Of course, I can."

I froze, and with a swift movement, the man reached out, grabbing my hair and pulling me towards him. I gasped, yelling out in shock and fear. How could the man see me? How could he hear me? I didn't even know what was going on anymore. This wasn't right. He had been acting this whole time like he didn't even know I was there!

"Lyra!" Morty shouted, getting to his feet. He looked just as shocked as I felt.

"What's going on?" Silver demanded, and the policeman—who really wasn't a policeman, so I shouldn't have referred to him as such—laughed. Suddenly, I didn't feel very safe. Even though I was already dead, and couldn't very well die again, something about this felt wrong. Like how could this man be causing me so much pain when I shouldn't have felt it, anyway? My hair felt like it was going to rip out of my head. "What the hell are you doing to her?"

"You boys better not do anything stupid, or _Champion_ Lyra is going to move on from this world faster than she probably wanted to," the man warned, and both Silver and Morty stopped where they were, feet planted to the ground. I had never felt so vulnerable. In life, I had at least had Pokémon and friends to protect me. But now… I didn't want my friends to risk their lives for someone who didn't even have one. I was dead. They couldn't help me. So, what else was I going to do now?

"What do you mean, 'move on from this world'?" Silver's hands were trembling, and I felt bad now for ever involving him in this. I never intended for anyone living to get harmed because of my death, and I had been so careful making sure Morty was safe. This was exactly why I never wanted other people to know about me! This would happen!

The man laughed again. Why did his voice sound so familiar? "I mean, an exorcism."

"Shut up!" Morty yelled, and the man laughed again. I couldn't pinpoint his voice. "You can't do an exorcism on her! You can't you bas—"

"Watch your mouth, or I'm going to get rid of her right now," the man hissed, spitting a little bit. I tried to turn my head enough to see his face, hoping that I could see the obscured part of it from below, but he tightened his grip on my hair. I yelped, and the man forced me forward. "Hear that? Do you want to hear her scream louder?"

Morty held the Poké Ball out in front of him, hands visibly shaking. "Battle me. If I win, you have to let her go. If I lose, then… well…"

"You can have me," I piped in, speaking louder as Morty protested. "You just have to leave them alone. You can do whatever you want with me. Exorcise me if you really want to. I'm dead, so… I have to go where I belong soon enough, anyway. Just leave them alone."

I had a plan. It would be hard to execute while I was so freaked out, but it would work. All I needed to do was calm down enough to become intangible again. I could slip out of his grasp, and… well, I wasn't sure how this would help Morty or Silver. But it made the battle go in favor of Silver and Morty either way. They could escape, with or without me, and then I could escape once they left. It would work.

"Lyra, no way!"

"What?" Silver asked, and the man laughed.

"Well, you're useless, aren't you?" he asked, pointing a finger at Silver. My redheaded friend narrowed his eyes, but he made no movement towards the man. "You can't see or hear her. And yet I can. Isn't that funny how things work out?" He squinted towards Silver, a sneaky grin on his face. "Lemme tell you a secret, little man. You kill 'em, you see 'em. That's how it works."

"Why you—" Silver lunged forward, and I reached out, stepping towards him until the man pulled back on my hair. Morty restrained Silver, holding his arms, and the man laughed. I didn't see how I was ever going to make myself calm down at this point. Everything was going absolutely insane. "You're sick! You're sick! You killed an eighteen-year-old girl! You killed her! She never even had a chance, you bastard! Never had a chance!"

The man pulled my hair again, and Morty winced, loosening his grip on Silver. "Oh, this is really cute. You did a good job, Champion Lyra. Got two boys, huh?" He laughed once again, and I whimpered. "But which, oh which, did you get? Hmm… well, from the looks of it, Silver lost out to Blondie, didn't he? Well, Leader Morty, do you love her or what?"

"Shut up. Are you going to battle me or are you just going to surrender now?" Morty let go of Silver, and for a moment I thought Silver was going to lunge at the man, but he just let out a scowl. He had immense control, something that he didn't always have. I was glad to see that, at least. I didn't want him to do something rash and get hurt.

The man scowled. "Fine. We'll follow your terms, then. You win, I leave. Simple as that. I win, I take Lyra and go. Make sure she stays dead this time." He smirked now. "But just so you know, I won't lose."

Morty shook his head. "I won't either." He looked at me, a determined expression on his face. I didn't know how this was going to turn out anymore. Honestly, I was scared to death—and I was already dead. "Lyra, don't you worry. I'm going to put this man in his place. Don't fade away on me just yet."

I smiled weakly, nodding as best I could with the man holding a firm grip on my hair. I had found my killer, and I hadn't moved on to the Plane of the Dead. What was keeping me here? Maybe I had to see his face?

"Get him, Morty!" Silver yelled as Morty and the man walked to separate sides of the pier. I wondered why the man agreed to the terms so quickly. Didn't he know that once Morty won, and he was free, Morty would probably go turn him into the police? Of course, he had no name, nor did he have a face, so…

"Here we go! Don't go fading, Lyra!" The man grinned, and with one swift motion he lifted his hat off of his head. And I knew exactly who he was.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So, do I! I know who he is! I know, I know! Pick me! =P But I'm not telling you until you read the next chapter and find out. But I have a feeling you'll be very surprised! I'm not gonna say much more than that because I don't want to give it away.

Anyway, this chapter was crazy. SO MUCH happened in it. The policeman wasn't actually a policeman, and he can see Lyra, and he killed her! Gah. It's just crazy. Crazy stuff folks, I tell ya.

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

I was in utter disbelief. I hadn't expected it was someone I knew initially, and yet I had definitely seen this man before—put only once, after I was already dead. This was why he sounded so familiar to me. Even though I hadn't heard his voice for very long, it had stuck with me, though that explained why I couldn't put a finger on it as to whose voice it was. Because I had only heard a few sentences from him the whole time I'd been dead.

"_You_ killed me? But… you're the man who rescued me from the water? You sat there with my body while I was dead! You tried to revitalize me! You called the ambulance! How could you have killed me? And you never acted once like you could see me!" I shouted, my voice getting louder and louder. I couldn't control myself anymore, and I knew I had no chance of ever becoming intangible while this man was around. I was too lost to myself, bewildered, disappointed.

"I could see you that whole time. As soon as you sat up out of your body, I could see you." He smiled weakly. "I wasn't expecting you to come back, but… well, you were dead, weren't you? But because you were still _wandering around_ up here," he made a motion with his hands, throwing them up in the air and rolling them around, "I knew I would have to get rid of you again. So, here I am. Why don't you ever just _die_?"

He pushed me to the ground, keeping a firm grip on my head. Then, leaning down with me, his mouth inches from my ear, I could feel him smiling. "Some call you the greatest Champion to ever walk this Earth. Well, I would have to agree with them. It's not often that you have to kill someone more than once," he whispered, and I gritted my teeth. The way he made it sound… well, there was no right way to speak about killing someone. But he made it sound like a game. A sick, twisted game, like killing someone twice was better than just once.

"Ca… Carson? Is that your name? Carson?" I asked, and as he leaned away from me, I could now see the smile on his face. Carson. The man who had saved me from the water. And what was the point of that? If I was dead already, why bother taking the extra effort to drag me from the water? Why didn't he just take my Pokémon and go? "Why?"

"Why what? Why did I choose you? Why did I bring you back to shore? Well, that's an easier question, so I'll start with that one." He switched holding my hair from one hand to the other, yanking me as he did so. "Think about it this way: which looks more suspicious? A man dragging a girl to shore, attempting to revitalize her? Or a man abandoning the ocean where a dead girl's body was found floating? It's simple. I knew you were dead since you sat up out of your body, and so I tried to revitalize you. But you were obviously dead for good—or your body was, anyway. It looked so good for me."

Silver scowled again. "That's disgusting. You're a sick man. Give her back to us!" He started forward again, but Morty held an arm out, preventing Silver from going any further. This, for the moment, was between Carson and me. Then I would pass it onto Morty for a battle—but until things were settled, I was going to handle this situation.

"Afraid I can't do that, son," Carson said, a sad look on his face now. "You see, Lyra still being around is causing a lot of problems for me. If she had just kept her nose out of business that didn't require her assistance, we'd be fine. I'd let her stick around. I only needed her out of the way to begin with because she would just stop Team Rocket if they tried to regroup. With her gone, we could go through with our plans. And a ghost wouldn't have been a problem." He narrowed his eyes now at Morty, a dark look on his face. "Then, this one here had to show up. You can see her, too. And you've been helping her solve her own death—trying to find me."

"The police would've figured out it was you eventually," Morty said, still holding onto his Poké Ball like it was a stress ball. It was going to crack from his tight grip. "Whether we stole the file or not. We were just trying to speed up the process. And what do you think is going to happen when we get out of here? Either way this battle ends, Silver and I are still leaving. You're going to be caught."

"And I will just tell the police you stole the file and are trying to cover up for Silver," Carson retorted, chuckling quietly. "Don't think I'm a fool, boys. I've been planning this for a long time. How did you think I could find you all here? It isn't just some coincidence. You've been played like pawns for quite some time. Since you stole that file, probably. At first I was a little upset that you stole that file. After all, I am here to get rid of Lyra so she can't pull shit like that again. But… it's working in my favor now."

"Are you joking?" I asked, unable to contain myself. "_What _is working in your favor? You're here arguing with a bunch of kids half your age—one of whom is dead—and you think this is good for you? You're losing, Carson. Why don't you just give up now? Even if you do succeed in getting rid of me, and even if you do get away with my murder, there will _always_ be someone there to stop you. There is always some good out there to fight away the bad."

Carson shook his head, sighing loudly. "Lyra, Lyra, Lyra. No one can beat us now."

I couldn't keep myself from laughing. This was ridiculous. Carson was absolutely insane—but, then, maybe I was, too. I was definitely in no position to be laughing at the man who had the power to get rid of me forever, but…

Rid of me forever? I hadn't disappeared yet, and I knew the man who killed me. What would it take to make me move on if this wasn't it? Did I need final closure? Would I have to wait until Carson was behind bars to finally move onto the Plane of the Dead? Or was moving on just never going to happen for me? Maybe I needed an exorcism, after all.

"You are _so_ stupid. You're not unbeatable! No one is." I turned my head enough to look Morty in the eyes, silently begging him, pleading with him. "Cream him, Morty. Knock the living daylights out of him for me. If I had my Pokémon here, I would show him, but… Well, it's in your hands now." I looked over at Silver just as Carson tugged on my hair again. "Give him hell!"

Morty threw the Poké Ball up in the air, allowing a Gengar to free itself from it. I recognized that Gengar; even though it had been years since I last battled Morty, I knew it was the one I had battled the first time I ever challenged him. It looked much stronger than before, if that was possible, and I smiled. He had this win for sure.

"Morty the Ghost-type Gym Leader. The Mystic Seer of the Future. Can you still see the future now? Do you know what is coming?" Carson asked with a grin. I bit my lip. I was never one for believing in that stuff. Sure, I believed Morty had some connection with Ho-oh and that stuff… but did he actually know the future? Did he actually see that silhouette of me? I didn't want to doubt him, but I couldn't actually believe he knew.

"Yeah. Of course I know. You're going to lose, and I am going to win. Lyra is coming with us, while you'll go to jail," Morty replied, a smugness in his voice. I smiled hopefully, silently praying that he would win. No. Morty _would_ win. The determination in his voice, in his soul, could not be beaten. It just wasn't going to happen.

Carson raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything else. Shrugging, he pulled a Poké Ball off his belt and threw it out, allowing a large Pokémon to erupt from it. I gasped, surprised to see the Pokémon. How did he get something so strong? Carson looked down at me, laughing.

"The infamous Pokémon Collector. Have to get some use out of all those Pokémon, right?" I narrowed my eyes. Why would they even listen to him if he was a criminal? "When I was a youngster, before any of you were battling, I received all the badges. Even challenged the Elite Four. Well, I lost. Highly disappointing. But Pokémon respect me. I have all the badges! I wouldn't have won if I didn't know what I was doing, right?"

I stared at the Pokémon he had sent out, wondering why it wouldn't just see past the fact that he had badges and realize that he stolen it. Badges or not, this man was a criminal who shouldn't have been trusted.

"Tyranitar! Take that Gengar down!"

I winced at Carson's booming voice. I hadn't expected him to send out such a strong Pokémon right off the bat. And Gengar was definitely at the disadvantage here. Ghost-types were not very good against Dark-types; the only thing that Gengar probably had on Tyranitar was speed, and it would have to use that to its advantage to take Tyranitar out.

"Use Crunch!"

"Come on, Morty!" I yelled, praying that he saw what I did. There was a big difference in speed. If Morty allowed Tyranitar to get close enough to lean into the attack, Gengar could dodge it last minute. This would render Tyranitar immobile for a moment, giving Gengar time to attack. His best option in this case would be Confuse Ray; if Tyranitar was down, it would be harder for it to get back up while confused.

He must have seen it. Waiting just a moment to say a command—Gengar didn't look fazed by this at all, meaning the trust between the two was amazing—Morty finally called for Gengar to dodge. Tyranitar leaned down with jaws wide, falling forward, forward…

"Confuse—"

"Turn now, Tyranitar! Push off the ground, and use Dark Pulse!" Carson ordered, and Tyranitar did exactly that. Pushing off the ground and using its tail as a balance, the beast turned around in a swift movement. I never expected that, and I knew Gengar was in trouble now. Even with its speed, Dark Pulse would still hit. As the aura shot out, I stared, hoping Gengar would be all right.

We were going to lose. Oh, there was no way we could win this battle. Morty was going to lose, and I was going to be exorcised. Then what after that? Carson would convince the police that Silver killed me, and Morty would go to jail for stealing that file. This was not going to work out in our favor after all. This was not going to…

I felt impossibly weak. Slumping down, unable to support myself, Carson chuckled, tightening his grip on my hair. If I could just fade away now… If I could just fade away…

"Lyra! It's just the Dark Pulse! Come on, Lyra!" Morty shouted, and I looked up at him. Dark Pulse? All these horrible thoughts? "Just see through it. Come on, Lyra, just see through it! Don't give up on us now. Gengar is still holding on! Lyra, come on!"

Gengar? I looked out at Tyranitar and Gengar, seeing that Gengar was indeed still standing. So, did we still have a chance? If Gengar could survive that Dark Pulse, what else could it survive? Probably not much more. This was still a loss. Anything we did now was just for nothing. Carson had won. I needed to just surrender now.

"Payback, Tyranitar! Show them that there's no hope!"

"Gengar, use Confuse Ray! Dodge when Tyranitar comes forward with the swing!" Morty called back, and I closed my eyes. I didn't want to see us lose. "Lyra! Look at us! We're fine. Everyone is fine. Ignore the effects of Dark Pulse!"

The Confuse Ray missed again—but Payback didn't. Even though Gengar hadn't attacked, and Payback wasn't powered up, it still appeared to do a severe amount of damage. I winced, wondering how I could ever just ignore the effects of Dark Pulse when this was going so poorly. Maybe it wasn't even the Dark Pulse. Maybe it was just me.

"Finish it, Tyranitar! Dark Pulse again!"

Morty grimaced, but with a sudden look of determination, he shouted, "Destiny Bond!"

Gengar went down, but it managed, last minute, to send out the force of Destiny Bond. We were still tied, even if Gengar went down. Tyranitar would fall with it, and who knew what other Pokémon Carson had? He had gathered (stolen, rather) the best of the best, I was sure, and with his obvious skill, he could easily take us on.

And maybe Carson knew this was going to happen. Maybe he expected it. So, he created a team of Pokémon he knew would be strong against Morty's Ghost-type Pokémon. I wasn't sure what other Pokémon he had brought with him, but I had a hunch that they were also Dark-types.

With Gengar out, though, I wasn't sure what else we had for a chance. It had to be Morty's strongest for sure. And it wasn't as if he could rely on Destiny Bond for everything. He needed to actually attack. So, returning the fainted Gengar to its Poké Ball, I waited for him to send out another Pokémon.

"Go, Sableye!"

"That was a smart move, using Destiny Bond. It seems you do actually know how to strategize. And now you've sent out a Sableye. No real weaknesses because it's a Dark and Ghost-type. However, even with the best of Trainers, its attacks are very weak and its defense low. It can be taken out in a second," Carson said as he returned Tyranitar to its Poké Ball. Then, clipping another Ball off his belt, he threw it out onto the field. "Try this on for size, Leader Morty! How will you handle this?"

I was feeling much more optimistic now that Tyranitar was gone. But the second I saw the Pokémon Carson had sent out, I felt that same sinking feeling again.

"Garchomp," I muttered.

Morty was really going to lose this one.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Lyra is so optimistic! (Insert sarcasm here.)

Surprise! How many of you actually expected Carson to be the murderer? How many of you even forgot that I introduced him in the first chapter? Yeah. :)

I have to say, I LOVED all of the guesses, and I certainly did consider most of those people. Even Ethan. So, good job with all of those wonderful theories! I enjoyed reading them!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

The Garchomp roared, looking particularly mighty compared to Morty's small Sableye. Now that the Dark Pulse was gone, I didn't mean to be pessimistic about the outcome of this battle, but I just couldn't help it. I couldn't see a happy ending to this match. Not when Carson had stolen such strong Pokémon. I would have to try hard for the rest of the match to stop being solid, but even this was going to be a struggle. This whole situation was too stressful, and I was beyond nervous at this point.

"Hell no!" Silver yelled, and I stared at him, eyes wide with fear for whatever he was going to do. Even Carson jumped, pulling my hair as he did so, surprised at Silver's sudden interjection. If things continued to follow the trend that they had been, I couldn't imagine that this situation would end very well. Silver had great control over his emotions, but if he erupted… it wouldn't be very pretty. And Silver looked pissed.

"Silver, please—" I started, breaking off when I knew he couldn't hear me. I looked over to Morty to help me out, but he was too busy staring at Silver to notice my pleading gaze. No one knew what Silver was about to do, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to find out. Tugging at my hair, hoping Carson had relaxed his grip, I groaned in pain. Carson, glancing down at me with a bemused expression, just tightened his grip instead.

Silver continued anyway, and I wanted to close my eyes, fearful of what would happen. "There were no rules set in this match. There were only terms. I'm making this a double battle. I cared about Lyra, too. I'm not just going to stand here while you win using Pokémon that you stole. And if you were part of Team Rocket, then I am going to destroy you." Silver clenched his fists before grabbing one of his Poké Balls.

Carson just shrugged. "Sure thing. This can be a double battle." He took another Poké Ball out, a sly smile on his lips. I shivered, hairs on my neck standing up. "But you really want to team up with the guy that Lyra abandoned you for? I mean," Carson shrugged, "shouldn't you have been the one she picked? You've been with her for years. You saved each other. You know each other. Right?" He shrugged once again, and I bit my lip. "But, hey, as soon as she died—she completely abandoned you, didn't she? For _him_?"

Silver faltered. I saw it. However quick it passed through him, he still did. Carson's words were getting to him, and I had a feeling he was beginning to believe them. Even I was starting to feel like there was truth in his words. But… I hadn't really abandoned Silver. I just… died. Wasn't that excuse enough for me to stop talking to him? And Morty was the only one who could see and hear me, so…

"And how does it feel not being able to hear or see her? Do you know why that is?" Carson continued, and Silver's hand with the Poké Ball in it dropped a little. "You're not meant to see her. It all has to do with fate. Morty was meant to be with her all along. Sure, he's the 'Mystic Seer of the Future' and all, but it's really because fate brought them together. She was led to Ecruteak not because of me but because of Morty. You? Yeah, you weren't meant to be in the picture after she died. Changing the course of fate clearly had no impact on that, either." Carson sighed dramatically, and Silver's arm dropped completely to his side. "You're just not important to her. It was never meant to be."

"Hey, shut up! Silver, don't listen to him. Fate… I mean, I guess it exists, but you have the power to change it. Lyra loves you. I know she does, just not…" Morty stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. We were all getting thrown into corners, separated. Carson had an abnormal power; he could so easily divide us. I never felt so separated from anyone before, and here I was, feeling so totally isolated.

Carson ignored Morty, his attention completely directed at Silver. "How well do you think they knew each other in life, Silver? They battled, what, a few times at most? How well did you know Lyra when she was alive? You could probably tell me everything about her. Yet… Morty is the one, not you. How unfair is that?" He smiled. Silver looked horrified, dumbfounded, bewildered. "But, sure, we can have a double battle."

"You asshole! What the hell is your problem? Leave him alone!" I screamed, reaching my hands up and trying to yank myself away from Carson. It wasn't working very well, so I began to kick wherever I could, thrashing around like a Gyarados on a rampage. "Let me go! Silver! Silver, I—_let me go!_"

I was nearly crying at this point. Not because I was in pain, though I was, but because I felt so horrible about everything Carson was saying. It was _all_ true.

"Come on, please, just let me go!" I begged, several tears falling down my cheeks. "Silver, please!"

"She's pleading for you, Silver. _Silver, please! Silver, please!_" Carson teased, sending his voice up an octave or two to imitate my voice. I lashed out again, kicking as hard as I could. "Isn't that sweet? Switching sides, are you?" He looked over at Morty, but I couldn't follow his gaze. "Look at this, Leader Morty! She can't decide! Can you see her yet, Silver? Can you see her?"

Silver blinked, lips pursed in a thin line, and he shook his head. Carson laughed, putting his free hand on his hip. "I didn't think so. And guess who she'll end up with? Morty. That's right. Even if she wants to switch sides, it always comes back to him. Every single time. Bet that's reassuring for you, eh, Morty? Oh, but wait! She's dead. Which means even if you can see and hear her, she's never going to be alive. She's never going to age, never going to marry you, never going to… Hmm. Well, this doesn't seem like a very good relationship, does it? It's not going anywhere. How does that make you feel? And Silver, are you happy with that? Happy that no matter what Morty does, he'll never be happy?"

I finally looked over at Morty, seeing his fallen head. Sableye and Garchomp were, at this point, simply glaring at each other, waiting for orders that looked like they'd never come. Carson was getting in all of our heads, messing with our minds when we clearly understood what he was doing. So, why was it happening at all?

"Morty. He's messing with our heads! Don't let him—"

"I'm speaking the truth," Carson interrupted.

"He's telling exaggerations!"

"I'm the only honest one here. Haven't I been honest all this time here?"

"I'm not leaving anyone."

"She'll have to leave eventually."

I narrowed my eyes, kicking at the ground one more time. "Stop it. Just… stop it. I know what kind of crap you're trying to pull, and it may be working on them—but it's not working on me. I don't _care_ what you have to say. Sure, maybe some of it is true, but most of it isn't. You're just trying to tear us apart when we're already at a disadvantage to your tricks. So, shut the hell up and battle. You made a deal."

Carson smirked, relaxing his grip on my hair. "That's true. Is this going to be a double battle or isn't it?" He looked at Silver, and I tried to slowly slip my hair out of his hand. "Before she starts fading away, folks."

Silver looked up, his eyes narrowed. "Let me clarify on a couple of things," he snapped, a pure nastiness in his voice. "First of all, I loved her. That much is true, and I am so bitter and angry that she is dead. It pisses me off that she left herself vulnerable enough for an idiot like you to kill her, and I am so _mad_ that she didn't find me. I am _horrified_ that you were the one to drag her from the sea…" He sighed, his hands shaking.

"I hate that she didn't choose me. I hate that she chose Morty when she never knew him like she knew me. I hate that I can't see her or hear her, but to hell with fate! I know she's there, so what difference does it make? Love isn't something tangible, anyway. Why does it need to be?" Silver looked to Carson's hand that was curled around my fist, his eyes trailing down a little until I knew they were resting on me. "If love isn't tangible, she doesn't need to be. And she doesn't have to love me back, either. Lyra, I'm okay with that. So, I do _not_ need you, _Carson_, to go on saying things that don't even concern you, you stupid oaf. So, shut the hell up and battle."

Having said the exact same things moments ago, I smiled, feeling much more relieved than I had since Carson had shown up. It meant so much to me that Silver would say all that, and I was glad that he was okay with Morty and me being together. Silver was the best friend anyone could ever ask for, and I was so happy that he was here now.

"You've got an interesting group of friends here, Champion Lyra. If this is where you get your strength from, then I can see why you're so powerful," Carson said in a soft voice, and I grinned smugly. "But it doesn't matter. Your power is why we're all here, isn't it? Yet you don't have any Pokémon to battle with. How ironic! The sources of your power are the people battling for you! Let's see how they fare, then, shall we? Go, Garchomp! And I'll send out Houndoom! Go!"

"Go, Feraligatr! Take them out!" Silver threw his Poké Ball out in front of him, sending out his first Pokémon. Since Silver had originally stolen Totodile, I imagined he would have a connection with the Pokémon that Carson had stolen. There had to be something—maybe Silver could understand them better than any of us could.

Carson grinned, and I tugged out another piece of my hair. He didn't notice. "Playing to the type advantage, are you?"

"It's got nothing to do with that. I am going to win this battle no matter what! Morty and I are fighting with purpose and good hearts, so we're always going to triumph over you." Silver sneered. "Plus, Team Rocket always fails. If there is one thing I learned from my father, it's that if Team Rocket should have been stopped a long time ago. That's why he left. There's no more benefit in it for that selfish fool anymore."

Carson made a _humph_ noise, eyes narrowing with a new look of detest on his face. Then, shaking his head just as I pulled another strand of hair out of his fist, he pointed forward. "Garchomp, use Dragon Claw on Feraligatr! Houndoom, use Flamethrower on Sableye!"

"Silver, I'm sorry," Morty said, looking over at Silver with an apologetic face. But Silver just waved him off.

"Get your head in the game! We need to win this, and we're not going to if you don't focus."

I pulled another strand of hair out. I was surprised that Carson hadn't noticed, but there was a new intensity on his face. He was clearly interested in the battle and only the battle at the moment, so I was making quite an excellent effort. I had pulled almost half of my hair out of his fist already, and I was beginning to feel a bit more calmed about this whole battle. Not that I doubted Morty alone (well, yes, I had doubted him, hadn't I?), but I knew Silver's battle strategy. He would be hard to beat, especially with Feraligatr out.

"Right," Morty agreed, looking at me for a minute, seeing what I was doing, and returning his focus to the battle. "Sableye, dodge those flames! Use Shadow Sneak on Garchomp before it can attack Feraligatr!"

"And Feraligatr, once Sableye attacks, use Aqua Tail on Houndoom!"

"No, dodge it, dodge it!" Carson shouted, sounding horribly overwhelmed all of a sudden. He was definitely a good battler. His strategies thus far seemed fairly intelligent, but now, trying to control two Pokémon at once… It wasn't working out for him. "Move it!"

But Garchomp and Houndoom were not fast enough for Feraligatr and Sableye's tag-team attack. Sableye snuck up on Garchomp, getting a fierce attack in before Garchomp could even make a move on Feraligatr. With Sableye missing from the area, Houndoom couldn't move, looking around helplessly for its target. Feraligatr attacked Houndoom before it even knew what was coming.

Both of Carson's Pokémon, particularly Houndoom, looked damaged by the attacks. Garchomp, however, was back on its feet in moments, ready to attack again. I was surprised that it had that much loyalty to a man who stole it, but I could almost see where it was coming from. Carson was, on occasion, a smart Trainer. Garchomp and Houndoom—and Tyranitar—probably respected Carson for being strong.

"Garchomp, finish them all off with Earthquake!" Carson snapped, and Garchomp roared in an eager response.

"Wait, stop! Don't do that!" Morty yelled, but it was too late. As soon as I saw Garchomp spread its arms, ready to attack, I knew exactly why Morty didn't want Garchomp to use Earthquake. Garchomp was a strong Ground-type, and an Earthquake attack would be of supreme power. Which was exactly why it couldn't be used.

We were in a cave. If Garchomp used Earthquake, we—meaning everyone who was still alive—were all done for. The Elder and all the members of the Dragon clan inside the cave, Silver, Morty, Carson, the Pokémon. Everyone.

In other words, the entire den would collapse and everyone would perish.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Uh-oh. That doesn't sound good!

So, these updates have been—to quote Frozen Seagull—"inhumanly fast". There is, honestly, reason behind it. I'm not just updating because I feel like being nice (though that is partially the reason; you are all the best!). NaNoWriMo is in less than a week.

Basically, as soon as November 1st rolls around, the updates for this are going to be "inhumanly" SLOW. Or just nonexistent for the whole month until I finish my novel (which I'm working on getting published, actually! I'm trying to find an agent as we speak!).

So, I know it might be annoying to see my name in your messages every single day, but I want to finish this before November. (Gosh, that's scary. I can't believe November is almost here!)

(And, um, SoulSilverShippin FTW in this chapter. Whoops. ;))

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

Too many thoughts rushed through my mind at once to comprehend them all. Yet the only thing I knew for fact was that everyone that walked in here living would walk out of here living. It was my fault that anyone was in here at all, and it was indirectly my fault that Carson had sent out a Garchomp and made it use Earthquake. If anyone died, it would be on my conscience, and I wasn't sure I could handle it at this point.

"What did you do?" Morty yelled at Carson, returning his Sableye to its Poké Ball. The battle was, for all intents and purposes, done. Silver followed suit, returning his Feraligatr to its Poké Ball, clipping it quickly to his belt. Carson managed to relax his grip enough for me to escape, slipping away towards Morty and Silver. He watched me, standing there with his hand still in the position of grabbing my hair.

Then, returning his own Pokémon to their Poké Balls, he started to laugh.

"What the hell?" Silver jumped out of the way of a falling rock, looking at Carson like he was nuts. This was probably true. I didn't see what could possibly be very funny at the moment. We were all about to die (well, except me) in a cave because of what he had just done. I couldn't see us escaping to the exit fast enough to survive this, and the poor Elders of the Dragon Clan were absolutely done for. What was so funny?

Then, taking a different Poké Ball off his belt, he threw it up in the air, sending out an Alakazam. I understood. _That_ was what was funny. After this entire ordeal, he was going to be the only one to escape this unscathed. Silver's Alakazam didn't know Teleport, and I wasn't entirely sure that he had it anymore. He may have, in the past few years, switched it with a different Pokémon.

"Bye, bye, boys. It was a pleasure meeting you both. I am so sorry we couldn't finish this battle, but it looks like it will be cancelled indefinitely." Carson said, saluting Morty and Silver. Then, looking at me, he smiled. "Lyra, you'll be coming with us."

With a swift motion, before anyone could even react, Alakazam's eyes began glowing. I didn't even have time to turn around and reach for Morty and Silver before I vanished, going through that same drowning room. I held my breath, spinning around and around, looking for Morty and Silver. Where were they? Why weren't they with me anymore? How had Alakazam's telepathic powers reached to me, when I was a ghost, but they hadn't reached Morty and Silver? Where were they?

I landed on solid ground a few moments later. I couldn't keep myself in control anymore.

"_Morty! Silver! Mort—_oh my _Arceus_, what the hell did you do with them?" I glanced around, looking for Carson. He was standing behind me, arms crossed with a bored expression. I walked up to him, grabbing his shirt and pulling his face towards mine, feeling so much hatred that I couldn't even control it. "_What the hell did you do? You _killed_ them!_" I shook him, feeling tears begin to fall down my cheeks. "You killed them! You killed them!"

I dropped my hands, backing away from him and staring at my hands. "Morty! Silver! Oh no… Morty! Come on, Morty! Silver!" I screamed, collapsing to the ground. "Morty! No!" Having nothing else to do, no one left to hurt, I pounded at the ground for a few moments before realizing I _did_ have someone left to hurt. And he was going to pay.

Wiping my eyes, I looked around, finding myself so very far away from the Dragon's Den. Looking out to the sea where I had died, I shuddered, the hairs on my neck standing straight up. The place where Carson had dragged me in death he had dragged me again, pulling me from the wreck of my life. This farce… it was not going to go on any longer. He would not keep on pretending to save me. He was going to deal with the consequences of his actions.

"Wouldn't it be ironic if you died where I did? What would you call that?" I asked, rising to my feet. My voice had sunk dangerously low, and my hands had curled into shaking fists. "Karma? Or… what was that word you used? _Fate?_ You were meant to bring me here, Carson. Because this is where you're going to die."

I was expecting Carson to swallow, to look somewhat afraid. I wasn't expecting him to laugh at me. But that was exactly what he did. His eyes trailed over my body, stopping at my hands and narrowed eyes—and he laughed. This seemed even more hysterical than the moment at the cave before he had sent out Alakazam. Yet I was dead serious (no pun intended). This was going to be the final moment of his life if I had my way.

I never considered myself a murderer. Of course, I had never expected to come face to face with my own murderer, nor had I even considered murder a possible way for me to die. There had been no time for me to contemplate how I would react if I met my killer, and yet even in death he had been the one in complete control of the situation. I hadn't had a moment to reflect on this, and even now, I felt so unsure and wrong.

But he needed to make up for all the wrong he had done. He needed to pay for killing Morty and Silver because I suspected that they were lost now. The cave would never be able to support those walls, and there seemed to be no escape for them. And those poor clan members who wouldn't even know what was happening. They didn't even know there had been a battle going on over a dead girl. How wrong that was…

Me, Morty, Silver, the clan members… what if Lance had been there? What if Clair had been there? Extra lives, gone. I wouldn't go assuming yet, but I didn't even know what else to think. Death seemed to have made a pessimist out of me, yet I didn't even care. Why should I even care anymore? Why should I care?

"You're funny, Champion Lyra," Carson said, wiping one of his eyes. "You are too funny. What makes you think that you could ever overpower me? You are _weak_. How do you think I defeated you in the first place? Without your Pokémon, you have nothing. Without your Pokémon, you don't have any power at all. You are a pathetic dead girl. Guess who won? Guess who fate decided as victor? Not you. Me."

I gritted my teeth, squeezing my hands tighter until my nails were digging into my palms. "I'm stronger than you think. It wasn't my Pokémon's power that defined me, though they may have been the reason I won so many battles. It was my dignity. It was my strategy. It was my heart. It was my soul. It was, as you noted earlier, my friends. All of the things that you don't have! You may be a good battler, but you _lost_."

"How have I lost? We've barely begun!" Carson smiled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know what you were thinking all that time in the cave. That if you become intangible, you could just sneak out no matter if they won or lost. Well, unfortunately, what would that have done? You could have escaped. You could have run. But eventually, you would just vanish, anyway. Your strategy… you would have left Silver and Morty horrible defenseless."

"They can take care of themselves," I started, but Carson laughed again.

"Like they could in that cave? Really, Lyra? Because if I recall correctly, they're the ones still trapped in there. I am the one that got away. How often does that happen? How often do the bad guys get away? I am smarter than you. I outwit you. You may have been the one to stop Team Rocket, but that was a fluke. I was only a grunt back then. Now, with me right on top, we can—"

It was my turn to laugh. I crossed my arms, shaking my head. "Please? You, on top? What makes you think you would ever make it there? The grunts were weak. You were one of them. Just because you stole strong Pokémon doesn't mean you'll make it to the top. Giovanni isn't coming back, Carson. You're done. He's given up on you."

"Shut up."

"No!" I snapped, grabbing his shirt again. "Read my lips: you are done. I defeated Giovanni years ago! And he's not planning on coming back. Your plan, whatever it may be, is not going to work. No one wants Team Rocket around. Everyone knows what they did and what they wanted to do. If you try to rebuild it, someone will always be there to knock it back down. Nothing you do will ever make Team Rocket come back. Everything you did… all the people you have hurt… it was all for nothing. You are so wrong."

"I told you to shut up!" Carson said, pushing me away. My heels touched the edge of the water, and I gasped, feeling that horrible drowning feeling once again. I fell to the ground, holding onto my throat, trying to will myself to breathe—knowing that I didn't need to but feeling horrible suffocated.

"Look at you! Look how weak you are! Don't try to tell me that I am wrong!" Carson continued, his voice rising. I tried to pull myself forward, away from the touch of the ocean, but Carson kicked sand in my face, making me fall back. I felt engulfed in the sea, and for a moment I wondered if I should just let it take me. "Defeated by water! You're pathetic!"

I pushed off from the ground, crawling forward away from the sea. All alone now, I couldn't rely on anyone else to save me. I needed to be the one to save myself this time. I rose to my feet, looking at Carson with sad eyes.

"I've never been defeated by water. I've just been lost in it."

"_What?_"

"This is going to end now, Carson," I told him, walking forward away from the sea. He took a step back, slipping on the uneven sand. "You need to repent. Are you feeling sorry yet?" I pursed my lips, walking in circles around him until he was facing away from the sea. "What does regret feel like? Do you need it more?" I took a few steps forward; he took a few back. "Can you taste it?" I walked closer; his heels hit the edge of the sea. "Do you feel it? Do you see it?"

He slipped. Back he fell, splashing into the sea. The water washed over him, and I crossed my arms, standing above him. "Say it. Apologize for what you have done."

"Are you kidding me?" Carson asked, spitting out water as it splashed over his face. I shook my head, eyes narrowed. "I won't apologize! And I don't plan on dying, either!" He stuck his leg out, trying to trip me, and I jumped out of the way.

"Say it!"

"Never!" I leaned in closer to him, and he closed his eyes. There it was: the fear I was looking for. He was starting to fear me. "I killed you, and I am proud! Do you want me to scream it? I killed Champion Lyra, and I am proud!"

Someone coughed behind us, and the two of us jumped. I spun around, seeing a police officer—hopefully legitimate this time—holding out a pair of handcuffs. Morty and Silver leaned out from behind him, Morty staring at me with wide eyes. I stepped back in surprise, tripping over Carson's foot and landing in the water on my butt. The drowning feeling washed over me again.

"Sir, can you come with me? You are under arrest for the murder of Champion Lyra."

Drowning… drowning… drowning…

…

Drowning.

…

Black.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yay! Thank goodness! Morty and Silver are awfully sneaky, aren't they? Getting that police officer! Geez.

(I was typing a sentence… and my spell checker told me I spelled "will" incorrectly. But it's right. I am quite confused.)

And, whoa, did you see what I did up there? "It was my heart. It was my soul." Haha, that was pretty clever, wasn't it. (I honestly didn't even think about it until I went back and read this through and found it. I was like, "Holy moly! That was completely unintentional!" It was great.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

When I came to, I saw Morty and Silver leaning over me. Before I could even think, I shot up, moving right through the two of them. They both backed away a little bit, looking at me with grins, and I put a hand to my head. This wasn't actually happening. Neither of them were really there. This was all a dream. Maybe this whole thing was a dream! Maybe I wasn't actually dead at all… I had to wake up!

Peace ran through my body, realizing that this was all a dream. Morty and Silver were fine, after all, if I was dreaming, and so was I. I could go finish living my life now. And even though I probably wouldn't have Morty anymore, I knew what we could have. I could find him in my conscious world, and I wouldn't have to worry about the barriers we faced now in this dream state. Everything seemed that much better.

"Lyra! Are you all right?" Morty asked, and all I could do was smile giddily. He looked at Silver, eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't know ghosts could pass out. She never even slept. I wonder if something happened to her when she stepped back into that water. It is where she died. Maybe that had some weird effect on her."

"Morty, when I wake up, don't forget about me, okay?" I said in a serious voice, and he glanced back at me. Silver rubbed the back of his neck, and I smiled at him. "And when I wake up, you and I will have a nice battle, okay? I'll go find you. Don't worry, Silver, I would never abandon you! Dreams just do funny things sometimes."

"Wake up?" Morty sat up a little bit, reaching down to take my hand, only to find that his went right through my body. "Lyra, you're not dreaming. This whole situation is very real." I just smiled at him; dream people were _supposed_ to say things like that. "Carson has been arrested, Silver and I are very much alive, and you're very much… not. You're not dreaming. Silver and I are _actually_ sitting here with you."

I nodded, going along with it. "Of course you are. This is the most in depth dream I have ever had in my entire life, you know. And to think I'd dream of my death! I hope I remember this dream in the morning because, as scary as this whole thing was, this was so insightful!" I put a finger to my cheek, trying to engrave this in my mind. I typically didn't remember my dreams, so I really wanted to remember this one.

"Hey, Lyra!" Silver yelled, his gaze looking right past mine out to the sea. "This is real life! I wouldn't lie to you, so get it through your head, stupid!"

"Oh, it's not a matter of lying." I responded, though this dream world still would not allow Silver to hear me. "It's just a matter of the dream state making you say impossible things. How would something like this happen in real life, anyway? It's incomprehensible. And don't crazy things always happen in dreams? It's the only logical explanation for the events that have occurred in the past few weeks. Though it does seem strange that I could have such a prolonged and detailed dream. I must have been sleeping for quite some time!"

Morty sighed, looking particularly exasperated. "She still doesn't believe us," he said to Silver.

"How else could you have survived the cave incident if this weren't a dream?" I shrugged, waving a hand at the two men. "Exactly. Theoretically, you couldn't have. So, the only logical explanation here is that you are both figments of my imagination, and I am not really dead." I bit my lip, seeing a problem in my thought. "Wait, but if that's true, how long have I been asleep? Am I still Champion? Or did that never happen?"

"I don't really see how we're going to get her to change her mind now." Silver completely ignored my questions, looking at Morty with a sad expression. "She thinks it's a dream. Maybe we should just let her think that. Once she realizes she's never waking up, maybe it will hit her. I can't really see a way to speed up the process."

Morty shook his head, and I narrowed my eyes, waiting for someone to answer my question. Yet the two boys just looked so sad, and I knew an answer to my question probably wouldn't be coming. I didn't know how much of this was real and how much of it wasn't. How far did this dream reach back, and how much of life did I miss? How long had I been asleep? Was I really asleep at all, or were Morty and Silver right? Maybe I was just tricking myself. After all, drowning felt entirely real to me.

"Lyra, please listen to me," Morty began, and he seemed so upset now that I felt the need to believe him. How could this feeling inside of me when I looked at him not be real? Whatever this was, whatever I felt… I had never experienced it in life. And weren't dreams just made up of pieces of yourself that you had already experienced? Someone once told me that everyone in your dreams were people you had encountered—even if only passing them on the street. So, I had to have felt this before in order to dream it.

"You don't have to believe us since you're clearly in the mindset now of believing that none of this actually happened. You just… passed out, which is abnormal, but… I mean, I guess that's why you're suddenly thinking your dreaming." Morty was tripping over his words and fiddling with his hands in attempt to find what to say. "We escaped the cave by using Lyle's Abra, actually. I never got around to returning it, remember? The Dragon Clan is all safe, too. So, it is quite possible that we are alive—because we are. So, you're not dreaming. Everything that happened, all that you remember: it actually happened."

I didn't know what to say. Not because of what he said but because of his expression. He was so serious, so earnestly concerned for me, and what I saw on his face matched how I felt. The flips in my stomach, the realization that he was _alive_, everything. It was all right there on his face. The concern I had felt when I had left that cave—for both Morty and Silver—was there, this time for me.

And all those feelings that I could not have ever possibly known in life, those forbidden from an immature eighteen-year-old girl, came swarming at me again. A jump of my heart, a flip of my stomach, and beautiful butterflies flapping their golden wings around in my soul. This was quite possibly the scariest feeling in the world, so unknown to me, yet I felt a certain joy in seeing Morty truly before me, alive and well.

It wasn't a dream. Everything I felt lead me to believe it couldn't possibly be. All of the moments I had shared with Morty, all the mistakes we had made together, all the things I had made him do for me—so selfishly—were real. How had I even forgotten that? How had all of the _real_ things I felt so suddenly vanished just by falling into the sea?

"Morty," was all I could say, and I smiled at him, reaching a hand up to his face, finding myself solid once again. He leaned his face into it, the sad look still plastered on. Then, looking at Silver, I searched his eyes with mine, though he could not see me. "You're alive. I… I can't believe it. I can't believe you escaped! And you caught Carson! How did you know where I would be? How did you know where to go—and so quickly?"

"That was me. It was Silver's idea to get the police, but I knew that Carson would bring you to the spot where he killed you. I figured he knew that you would feel completely overwhelmed by the sea if you got too close to it, so he would be able to overpower you if necessary." Morty paused, grimacing. "And what better place to do an exorcism than the place you died? So, we got the police and brought him here. The timing couldn't have worked out better, of course."

Something wasn't right about this. It wasn't the police this time that I didn't trust this time, but it was just a funny feeling I had. The case had been solved, hadn't it? Carson had fully admitted to killing me, and I definitely believed him on that one. Yet I was still here. Even after solving the case, figuring out who murdered me, getting closure—I was still here. I hadn't moved on to the Plane of the Dead as I should have.

"What's wrong?" Morty asked, and I hesitated. How was I supposed to tell him that something else was amiss? How was I supposed to tell him that I shouldn't be here anymore? What else was I waiting for? The pain I had caused… Morty and Silver, and an entire clan of people, had almost died on my behalf when I shouldn't have even been there. I was dead! I belonged on the Plane of the Dead! I needed to leave.

Those feelings when I looked at Morty… I knew exactly what they were. The unknown feelings that I should never have felt at all because I never felt them in life… It was unfair of me. They were so clearly reciprocated by Morty, and it wasn't fair of me to remain here. None of this was fair. Especially now that Silver knew I was here; what was I supposed to do? Stay in the Plane of the Living and pretend like I was alive? I couldn't.

"I didn't move on, Morty," I responded, an edge of sadness in my voice. His eyes widened, and I dropped my gaze, unable to look into his eyes. Silver looked suddenly uneasy due to Morty's reaction, asking what was wrong. "I should be gone. Wasn't that why I had solved this in the first place? I didn't move on."

"Lyra was supposed to disappear when Carson was arrested. It put final closure on her case, and we suspected that was why she was still around," Morty explained to Silver. "But she's still here, so there is something else she is supposed to do before she moves on. I just… I have no idea what it could possibly be. But I'll help!"

Silver nodded enthusiastically, a small grin on his lips. "Me, too!"

It took everything inside of me to shake my head. Morty looked startled, sitting up on his knees and curling his hands into determined fists. "What do you mean? We'll figure out what you're waiting for! We'll help you! I promised that I would help you, Lyra! I can't go breaking that promise now! What are you trying to do?"

I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head before I spoke. It needed to come out as clearly and calmly as possible. "I don't want you to help me anymore," I finally said after a moment of silence, and Morty fell back down on his legs, looking defeated. Silver looked around, confused, and I shook my head again. "Look at him, Morty. He doesn't even know what I'm saying. He doesn't even know where I am. I don't want his help. And I don't want yours."

"How can you be so selfish? After everything we… I can't believe you!" Morty yelled, and I smiled pathetically. He was right; I was selfish. But this was a whole different kind of selfishness now, and it was the right kind.

"I'm sorry. I… I appreciate your desire to help me, and I am so thankful that you have been helping me this whole time. But…" I sighed, unable to think of what to say now. "I don't want to find what I'm waiting for anymore. I just want to sever all ties. I've been horrible unjust, and it's time I said my goodbyes."

"You just want to leave? After all this? You're not even going to wait to find out what is keeping you here? You're just going to walk out on us like nothing ever happened? You're just going to _forget_ about us? About me?" Morty retorted, his voice quivering. I swallowed hard, folding my hands together nervously. "You're just going to leave now? You have no control over that."

"You can't leave! I just found you," Silver added.

"Weren't you expecting me to disappear, anyway? Why can't we just pretend that it worked out that way?" I shook my head, trying to think of the best way to say what my plan was. Morty wasn't going to be happy with it, I knew. "Morty. All right, fine. I want your help. Remember that you promised me you'd help, okay?"

Morty shrugged. "Fine."

"Well… I want _you_ to exorcise me."

* * *

**Author's Note:** All right, so… I figured it's probably a good time to tell you that the next chapter (chapter twenty) will be the last one. It's been a great run, and I am so happy I got a chance to write this! It's such a crazy story! Thank you so much for reading it! (But I'll leave my final A/N for the big finale!)

Tomorrow is a big day at my resident hall, so I probably will not update until Saturday. (What a good night to end, too! The day before Halloween! Couldn't have worked out any better!) Hopefully having such a "slow" update won't be too bad? It will be the last chapter, so… gotta go out with a bang! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

"No."

He had nothing else to say. It was a firm, "No," and that was all I was going to get. It would take a whole lot of arguing to get him to change his mind, and a part of me wanted to just give up now; I wouldn't get my way. Yet the other part of me—the stronger part—told me that I could definitely win this fight. Morty had a weakness, and that weakness was me. He would do anything to keep me here, I was sure, but I just needed to convince him that I didn't want to be here anymore.

"Fine. Break your promise," I said, sounding like a five-year-old. But if this was what it took to get him to help me, since I could not exorcise myself (and Silver couldn't even see me), then so be it. I rose to my feet, and Morty scrambled up beside me, looking horrified. Silver stood up beside him, waiting to be told what was happening. "I'll find a way to move on without you. Thank you for all your help thus far, Morty. I'll see you on the flip side."

I began to walk away when Morty called me back. I wiped the tiny smile off my face before turning around with a fake annoyed expression. "Hold on, Lyra, what are you doing? Why do you want to leave now? Why can't you just wait until you find whatever you're missing? I mean, I'll help you with that, and we can start right now if you really want to get out of here. But exorcism? I can't do that, Lyra. Do you even know what you're asking me to do?"

I nodded. Of course I knew. "I know what I'm asking you: to give up me. And I know that this is probably harder than just watching me fade away because it makes you the reason I leave." I sighed, trying to think of a way to proceed carefully. "I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to _hurt_ you anymore, Morty, and if you think I'm doing the wrong thing by leaving, then you're wrong! Because it isn't fair of me to ask you to search through death for me. You need to go live. I'm sure I'll see you again someday, but you need to go on without me now."

Morty's eyes widened, and I knew I had struck something. I heard him sniffle, and for a moment, I was horrified. Yet he spoke then with such a strong voice that I figured I just imagined it. He wasn't crying for me at all. It was just my mind trying to trick me into wanting to stay with him; perhaps a part of me did. Perhaps a lot of me did. But I couldn't.

"Do you see how wrong you are?" he asked, and I stood up a little bit straighter, trying to make myself bigger. I wasn't wrong. "What if I need you, Lyra? And what about Silver? Did you see what you did to him?" Morty gestured at Silver, and the redhead glanced around, trying to figure out the conversation. "When he thought you were gone—you saw him on that pier! He was miserable! But as soon as he knew you were back… look at him, Lyra. Don't you see that light in his eyes? That's you! That's you, Lyra!"

Sure enough, Silver's eyes were glowing with the same light I knew so well. Every time I walked into a room when I had been alive, those eyes would light up. But that was a farce. It wasn't me lighting up his eyes. It wasn't me who gave him that energy and sparkle. It never had been.

"No, Morty, _you're_ wrong." I crossed my arms, and Morty followed suit, looking angry with me. "That light is the idea of me. I'm not real!" I shouted, throwing my hands up now. "I'm not real, Morty, and that's the problem! I'm a ghost. I'm not alive. _I'm not real_. And the thing is… you're all acting like I am. That's why I need to leave. Because when you look at me… you think I actually exist. I'm not meant to be here, and you talk to me and treat me like I do. Like I'm human. Well, I'm not anymore." I sighed, seeing the realization hitting Morty's face. "I want _you_ to be the reason I leave, Morty. Please send me away."

He looked panicked, with no other options left. So, having nothing left to do, he nodded with a solemn expression. I won. But now, it wasn't a matter of winning or losing to me. It was a matter of leaving, and I would have found a way to do it whether he wanted to help me or not. Because I could not exist anymore.

And I realized that I was right. All of this was fake. Everything Morty and Silver felt, everything I felt. It wasn't real, either. If Morty was right, as I suspected he was, I wasn't meant to be on the Plane of the Living. So, if I wasn't meant to be here, I shouldn't have been. And if I shouldn't have been here, then none of those feelings should have ever existed. They were all wrong.

"Fine. Give me a day to get myself ready," Morty agreed, and—since it was the least I could do—I allowed this.

I requested that Morty would not tell Silver what was actually going on, though I suspected from hearing Morty's half of the conversation he could figure it out on his own. Saying goodbye to more than one person was too hard for me, and maybe in that sense Carson was right. I was weak that way.

Maybe he knew. If he did, he didn't try to stop me from leaving, and for this I was grateful. I figured he knew that I needed to leave, and maybe saying goodbye was too hard for him, as well. I knew this was his goodbye, anyhow, and I was fine with it. Now, maybe he would handle death in a different light.

The day passed. All I could think about was the Plane of the Dead and what death would be like there. Morty said I would forget everything. Was I all right with that? Did I want to forget? Well, yes, I was all right with that. And perhaps I didn't want to forget, but if it was something I needed to do, I would welcome it. The pain of life would be gone—but so would my happiest moments. Was giving up those happy moments for a happy afterlife worth it?

It wasn't as if I would know once I moved on whether it was worth it or not. And I had to move on. I had to.

When Morty told me he was ready—or as ready as he would ever be—I felt a horrible sadness. Though I had been the one telling everyone that I _needed_ to move on, I now felt so scared and uneasy. My stomach knotted, and I felt for a moment that I would throw up. Tears began to well up in my eyes, and I couldn't look at Morty anymore. I couldn't let him know how terrified I was of going away and leaving him.

I couldn't let him know how terrified I was of death. And that was reason enough for me to lie down on that sandy beach beside the rushing waves. Because if I was terrified of death, then that meant I hadn't felt it. Sure, I had felt the terrible drowning experience over and over (water making me relive my death since it was the source of it), but since I was a ghost, I still felt alive. Hadn't I first thought when I sat up out of my body that death was no different than life? This was why I needed to move on. This was what I had been telling them. Perhaps I hadn't told myself enough.

He brought me back to the beach, figuring exorcising me in the place where my soul had left my body was the best spot. I didn't know what he would do to me, or how this was going to work, but as I sat down on that beach, I felt nervous. I trusted him with my life—or, in this case, my death—yet what if something went wrong? Would his soul go with me? He assured me it was very safe for souls still intact with their bodies, yet… I was so scared.

"You're shaking, Lyra," Morty pointed out, and I looked at him, trying to keep my eyes open so no tears would fall. He was staring at me, eyes dark and face solemn. "You don't have to go through with this. Just waiting to find what's keeping you here will be less frightening. Please, Lyra, just let me help you find it!"

I shook my head, finally blinking and allowing several tears to trickle down the sides of my face into the sand. "I need to leave right now. I need to—oh, no, I need to—" I began to sob, tears flowing freely from my eyes now. Morty reached out, wiping some away, and I gasped, pushing his hand away. He looked taken aback.

"Please, I need to leave. I am terrified of what will happen to me, but that's the problem. So, send me away. Send me away, Morty!" I yelled, but he didn't move from my side. Though he did not reach for me again, I felt him staring at me. "Go, Morty! I can't stay here anymore! I can't stay here! I can't do this!"

"Lyra!" I stared back at him, seeing the fear that I felt in his eyes. There it was. That feeling I felt reciprocated by him again. The feeling I had never felt in life that I now felt now in death. It was there again, replacing the knots in my stomach with a new pain. I didn't want to leave him. I didn't. And I had to.

I pulled him back to me, kissing him, knowing it was my last time. I kissed him for everything he had done for me. I kissed him for all the advice he had given me. I kissed him because… well, I loved him. Was that the feeling? Love? The love that I had never felt in life? Was this what love felt like? Did it always hurt to separate?

"Lyra, I'll meet you again," he told me, grabbing the sides of my head and kissing me one more time. "Don't you forget about me, okay?" I nodded as he let go, standing up and backing away from me. "I love you, Lyra. I know you probably don't want to hear that anymore, but it's enough for me to let you go."

"I love you, too." I smiled at him, trying to make it look like I was happy about loving him. I was. And I was sad to be letting him go, too. But this was the right thing to do, the right thing for the both of us. I—

I felt very strange.

"You're fading!" Morty shouted, and I looked down at myself. I definitely looked more like a ghost now than I had the entire time I had been a ghost. My body was transparent and fading quickly, becoming more less opaque as the moments passed by. "This was what you were waiting for, Lyra! This is what was keeping you here!"

"It was you the whole time…" I muttered, sitting up. "You were the one! You were the reason I stayed!"

Morty blinked, and I noticed a tear slip down his face. "Me?" Then, with a little smile, he reached out a hand to help me stand. Yet, despite such powerful joy at this moment—knowing love for the first and last time—my hand went right through his. I stood up on my own, standing inches away from him.

"Guess you don't need an exorcism," he whispered.

"Guess not." I was almost gone, vanished completely. I reached a hand up, able to see Morty almost perfectly through it. "Thanks. I'm glad it was you."

Morty nodded, swallowing. He looked as nervous as I felt now. "Still scared?"

"Of course. But whether I like it or not—whether I'm ready or not—I'm going now. Goodbye, Morty," I said, barely an outline of me left. I smiled, nothing else left to say. Maybe I was glad that I found what was keeping me here, like Morty suggested I do. But I was just happy that, no matter what, he helped me move on.

"Goodbye, Lyra. I'll see you." He waved, a small smile—bittersweet—on his face. And Morty was the last thing I saw before I moved on forever.

Death wasn't what I had expected.

* * *

**Author's Note:** First off, I want to point out something interesting. This fanfiction is written entirely in first-person past-tense. Yet—in the end—Lyra moved on. So… how was this written from Lyra's perspective if she's gone? Haha. Just something tricky I wanted to point out.

Secondly, it may not have ended "happily" (and maybe it didn't end the way you wanted), but this is what I anticipated all along. And I do consider this a bittersweet ending. It's not entirely sad or happy. I KNOW I left questions unanswered. I am fully aware. But this is the ambiguity I wanted. And if I left anything to be desired, I realize that, too. But I still hope you liked reading this! (I'm very nervous to read your reactions, actually.)

Finally, thank you SO much for following "Phasmatic"! I am so glad that you took the time to read it (and review it). I hope you enjoyed it, and starting in December, look for my new chaptered SoulSilvershipping fanfiction, "Stockholm". :) (I believe one is long overdue).

(P.S. The title, "Phasmatic". I forgot to mention how I thought it up. The first part is obvious: Phantom. She's a ghost. The second part, not as obvious: Automatic. This is a bit of a strange combination, but the "automatic" was the more literal sense of the word. "Auto" meaning "self" and "matos" meaning "thinking". So... it's a weird derivation, but... that's kind of how I came about the title.)


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